Review by · March 20, 2026 · 12:00 pm

Ride on, Rangers: Monster Hunter Stories 3: Twisted Reflection, the third entry in the monster-collecting JRPG spin-off series, is here! Can humans and monsters unite to save the world? Bonds of kinship prevail in a fantastical tale revealing how past sins echo through time. Heartwarming and poignant, Monster Hunter Stories 3 builds on an already impressive formula and reaches even greater heights.

The story begins in a kingdom called Azuria with the birth of exceedingly rare twin Skyscale Rathalos (think giant dragons). This birth portends a great calamity, causing the king to make a tragic decision in an attempt to prevent future hardships. Flash forward years later, and much has changed in Azuria. You play as the prince or princess of the kingdom who happens to be the newly minted captain of Azuria’s Rangers: a specialized unit of Monster Riders with a mission to protect the fragile environmental balance between humans, monsters, and nature.

Together with your staunchly loyal Palico attendant Rudy and “Monstie” Ratha, you and the other Rangers face the inexplicable threat of crystallization that is laying waste to monster and human territories alike. Not to mention the increased tensions with the neighboring kingdom of Vermeil, which has been hit even harder by the disaster and is growing ever more desperate. With war on the horizon, can the Rangers, their Monsties, and Eleanor, the second princess of Vermeil, figure out the truth behind the disastrous crystallization and save everyone?

I won’t delve too deeply into the story, as it contains emotional twists and turns. There’s one predictable twist, but it still works narratively. While I’m not as familiar with the mainline Monster Hunter action RPGs, I appreciate Monster Hunter Stories’ focus on humans aiming for harmonious coexistence with monsters. The Monsties aren’t treated as harmless, and Monster Hunters still play a pivotal role in society; however, the monsters are shown with surprising depth and sentience, making their bonds with humans believable.

Monster Hunter Stories 3 is the best in the trilogy at developing party members beyond the protagonist and Rudy. The other Rangers and Eleanor each have their own backstories and motivations. Supporting characters gain depth, and I even wanted more scenes with standouts like Corbin and PK. The game tells a surprisingly epic tale, veering into mature, bittersweet territory.

Rudy, Thea, and the MC gather around some monster eggs in Monster Hunter Stories 3: Twisted Reflection.
Gathering monster eggs is an important part of a Ranger’s job.

This leads me into my first “gripe”: the first two MHS games leaned more toward family-friendly, wholesome territory. Monster Hunter Stories 3 attempts to tread that same water while also telling a more grown-up tale of acceptance and coming-of-age. Occasionally, it comes across as not knowing which audience it is trying to cater to. There are some scenes that could be troubling for younger gamers, yet the narrative then pulls back by still retaining “childish/cutesy” elements. For instance, it’s hard to take a scene describing the horrors of war as seriously as was no doubt intended when terms like “Monstie” are used in the same breath.

The cat-like Felynes that populate the world are far too cute, even when in serious narrative roles, given the cat puns they throw around (not that I don’t think they aren’t “purr-fectly” charming and clever myself). Throw in a side quest that involves finding missing Poogies (essentially little piglets), who are often dressed up in colorful attire for some reason, alongside actually racing some of the little guys in mushroom-dotted race tracks, and you’ve got an RPG that seems deceptively kiddy on the surface. But breaking through the egg quartz to find the hidden bounty within reveals a plot with some pretty dark and mature undertones.

In a way, Monster Hunter Stories 3: Twisted Reflection symbolizes the “awkward teen” phase of this spinoff series as it finds its footing alongside its more daring cousin. Still more mature and evolving than its predecessors, yet only taking those forays with tentative, regressive steps at certain points. That isn’t a slight against the plot at all, though! There’s a superb environmental message at its core. I also appreciate how the main character (whom I’ll refer to as “the princess” from here on out since that’s who I picked) is so much more than just a blank slate player insert in this tale, as they have a pivotal role and personality that’s front and center throughout.

Gameplay-wise, Monster Hunter Stories 3: Twisted Reflection replaces the main MH games’ action RPG mechanics with a more traditional turn-based approach. The princess equips three weapon types, each with unique strengths, weaknesses, and skills. You switch weapons to suit your current enemies and choose the most effective element or type. I preferred heavy blades, hammers, and bows, but all weapon types are versatile. After selecting a weapon, combat involves choosing an attack and entering a rock-paper-scissors exchange: technical beats speed; speed overcomes power; power trumps technical. Winning Head-to-Head lets you deal more damage, or the reverse if you lose.

Thea and the main character prepare to battle a monster in Monster Hunter Stories 3: Twisted Reflection.
Get ready to fight!

As a Rider or Ranger, you’re never fighting alone. The princess teams up with a Monstie companion, and both share a “heart” meter to monitor and avoid a game over. In battle, you can use up to six monsters, each with unique behaviors, abilities, and elemental properties. Keeping a mixed roster to match foes is vital.

By default, Monsties pick their moves, but you can override this when you need a certain attack type. If you and a party member target the same enemy part with the same attack type and win a Head-to-Head, your kinship gauge increases faster. This lets you ride your Monstie, combining your health and unlocking a powerful Kinship move. Your AI-controlled Ranger companion and their Monstie function identically, and syncing the ride phase enables a more devastating Double Kinship attack.

Combat requires strategy. When first fighting a new enemy, you’re left to initially guess at their penchant for attack types and counter accordingly. After that initial phase, you have to remember which attack types enemies prefer if you want to do the most damage. There are also status effects and a limited number of inventory items to consider, so plan carefully. Many enemy monsters have multiple body parts to target, often with different weapon weaknesses that’ll have you switching out between different ones as needed. Breaking body parts can stagger monsters or weaken their attacks, but it can make the fights drag on.

It doesn’t help that, aside from choosing your own Monsties’ attacks, you have no control over what your Ranger ally and their Monstie do during fights. Every party member and their monsters have different abilities and equipment, but merely serviceable AI. But they might prefer power attacks even when an enemy targets them with a speed one, or they might not heal you or themselves, even when you’re out of your restorative items and desperately need the support. The ability to direct their actions would speed prolonged battles along.

I often relied on the handy Quick Finish option to instantly KO lower-level enemies or attacked and destroyed monsters on the field before a fight even began, but that only works if you’re sufficiently leveled.

Using a Monstie's skills outside of combat to help explore and gain crafting materials in Monster Hunter Stories 3: Twisted Reflection.
Monsties such as Ratha can use fire attacks outside of combat to stun enemies or destroy obstacles and acquire crafting materials.

Outside combat, exploration is central to Monster Hunter Stories 3. Monsties have unique abilities for navigating areas. For example, Royal Ludroths’ Swim lets you cross lakes quickly, while Barroths’ Ground Dive grants access to otherwise unreachable regions. Having a party with varied skills opens up more of the terrain, and you can switch Monsties at any time. Exploring reveals dens with monster eggs to bolster your ranks, or you can use a recently hatched monster in reclaimed areas after defeating a Feral Monster and setting up a campground to increase a specific monster’s population.

Habitat restoration enables you to not only strengthen the monster populations of an area, but also “restore” endangered species. First, you must combat invasive monsters. These souped-up monster battles take more strategy to overcome as they require clue gathering and specific tactics to not so much “defeat” the enemy as to make it retreat, at which point you can retrieve an endangered species egg and hatch it.

Returning the newly hatched monster to the ecosystem then starts populating the grounds with more eggs for that species. Continuing to do so can even cause mutations, resulting in powerful monster variations. The fearsome Tigrex, for example, has two such mutant subspecies you acquire by playing along with habitat restoration.

The Rangers conversing in their homebase in Azuria in Monster Hunter Stories 3: Twisted Reflection.
Homebases are important for the Rangers.

Beyond merely collecting eggs and hatching them, you can also add skills and abilities to your Monsties through the Rite of Channeling. This allows you to transfer specific genes between monsters. There are bonuses to stats should you line genes up a certain way, and the sheer number of abilities you can give a monster is astounding. Genes let monsters access attacks they normally wouldn’t have, like a technical or speed attack skill on a monster mostly known for power, which helps further diversify the roles they take in combat. Narga, my Green Nargacuga variant, became an MVP due to all of the different skills and defensive/resistance bonuses I gave him.

Monster Hunter Stories 3‘s optional side content occasionally opens up, generally of the basic fetch variety, with you having to track down specific monsters or materials. They’re definitely good for resource gathering purposes for crafting or for level grinding, but they aren’t memorable.

The character side stories for the Ranger companions and Eleanor are far more interesting. Not only can you strengthen your comrades’ and their Monsties’ abilities and gear by undertaking them, which in turn improves their combat strength, but you also learn more about their individual backstories and reasons for tagging along with the princess. The side stories further strengthening your companions’ narrative ties and reactions to the main plot. I just wish the rest of the side content were as detailed!

The Rangers emerge victorious after a boss battle in Monster Hunter Stories 3: Twisted Reflection.
Onwards!

Monster Hunter Stories 3: Twisted Reflection is a gorgeous and vibrantly colorful game. The environments are lively and memorable with a ton to uncover, and I love the expressive characters. The monsters all have interesting designs, though I do wish there were more variety. For all of the different color variations, you do run into monsters that look quite similar to one another, even if their behaviors are different. I also love the different looks the armor getups have, even though some of them have accessories that could prove distracting during cutscenes, like shoulder horns that block another character’s face during dialogue.

I played the game on a PS5 and didn’t encounter any of the graphical hiccups Ben Love reported in his awesome Switch 2 version preview, so I think the graphics interpretation also depends on the console.

The sound effects and voice work for the English language version are nicely done. Monsters sound thoroughly wild and intimidating when necessary, and the voice actors really give it their all in their performances. The soundtrack is also amazing. The vocal ending theme is lovely and fits the narrative theme nicely, and I loved the catchy intensity of the battle and monster themes such as this one. The script localization is pretty well done, with easy-to-read subtitles throughout all cutscenes.

Overall, I appreciate that Monster Hunter Stories 3 is largely a standalone adventure that RPGFans can pick up and play even if their knowledge of the main Monster Hunter series or the previous two MHS games is nonexistent (though there are some delightful callbacks for fans). The foundation for Monster Hunter Stories was already solid, and this third game largely builds upon this. Most of my issues with the game are relatively minor and nitpicky in hindsight, especially given how much I enjoyed playing it even after fifty hours.

I think Monster Hunter Stories 3: Twisted Reflection is a great introduction to this spin-off series, especially to those with a fondness for detail and strategy-heavy monster collecting and explorable fantasy adventures. Given how fantastic Monster Hunter Stories 3 is, if the next game in the series can provide an even stronger outing, I’ll be paws-itively impressed!

  • Graphics: 88
  • Sound: 95
  • Gameplay: 96
  • Control: 94
  • Story: 86
92
Overall Score
(not an average)

About our grading scale

Review by · March 19, 2026 · 3:00 pm

Even if I wasn’t aware of the background behind Etrange Overlord, I’d still be drawn to its energetic visual style and quirky premise. Knowing that it is the first project from Sōhei Niikawa (legendary creator of the Disgaea series) since he went independent adds an undeniable appeal to the project. 

I’m not going to pretend to be a Disgaea expert; indeed, I’ve never touched the property, but I’m well aware of its reputation for bawdy humour and compelling gameplay, featuring explosions of insane numbers to tease the stat fiends among us. You might expect something similar from Etrange Overlord, and if so, you won’t be disappointed.

Etrange Overlord is the story of Etrange Von Rosenburg, a seventeen-year-old noble who suffers an unfortunate fate. After she is accused of plotting against the royal family, she is executed, French Revolution style, getting up close and personal with Madame Guillotine. That bladed maiden usually appears at the end of someone’s tale, but for Etrange, it’s just the beginning.

Waking up in hell, some unpleasant-looking demons confront her, threatening to teach her about what they think is her proper place in the afterlife. Etrange is none too pleased with this and unleashes a torrent of dark magic on the hapless imps, giving them a sound thrashing, whilst immediately establishing herself as a force to be reckoned with in the land of the damned.

Etrange looks surprised as she stands on the bridge of an airship in Etrange Overlord.
Etrange just remembered she left the oven on in the mortal realm.

These unfortunates quickly decide to cut their losses and pledge themselves to the new player in town, becoming Etrange’s first companions in her voyage to find her “happy life,” which she’ll achieve by taking over hell for herself.

And what will you be doing to assist Etrange in her quest for infernal glory? You might be surprised to know that you will not be engaging in the sort of strategic, turn-based combat that features in Niikawa’s better-known franchise. Niikawa is not content to rest on tried-and-tested recipes for success, and instead risks the fires of fan disapproval by adopting a more action-based approach for Etrange Overlord, one so full to the brim with invention that it occasionally threatens to spill over, like a bubbling volcano before its fiery eruption.

In Etrange Overlord, you control up to four characters at a time, chosen from Etrange’s constantly expanding band of “vassals,” which can include our heroine/villainess. When the screen changes to an appropriately themed arena, don’t wait for a menu to pop up, or Etrange Overlord will incinerate you, as battles consist of fast-paced and frenetic button-mashing. You only have to think about three main inputs: your basic attack, a special attack, and an extremely useful dash button. Each character is designed to fit into one of a few combat styles. For instance, Etrange has balanced abilities while others specialise in ranged attacks or brutal close-quarters combat.

Etrange Overlord then throws its central idea into the mix: the “lanes.” These are curving lines that flow throughout stages, transporting various bonuses around in endless, devilishly looping patterns. These provide extensive boons to the fallen souls that collect them, such as the ability to withstand an attack, increase melee damage, boost hit points, or charge your super move.

This forms the meat of the gameplay of Etrange Overlord, but for the rest of the time, you will watch numerous cutscenes detailing Etrange’s dealings with the dear departed and their tormentors. If you are fond of eccentric, over-the-top comedic anime, with exaggerated characters and equally broad jokes, this will click with you. If not, then Etrange Overlord will torment you like a servant of Satan using a cheese grater on your nether regions.

As for me, I swiftly fell in love with Etrange, a morally grey, raven-haired witch who looks like she has just stepped off stage from a high-end opera production. She doesn’t desire to rule over others for its own sake, but instead wants a happy life for herself, principally to fuel her primary obsession, an all-consuming love of sweet treats and desserts. As a recovering sugar-obsessed treat-adorer, this was my own personal hellish trial in Etrange Overlord. Her complete lack of self-awareness, or the fact that everyone views her as an uncontrollable force of monstrous destruction, is also oddly endearing.

A battle screen from Etrange Overlord, featuring four characters and much action.
If you’re wondering what’s happening, welcome to Etrange Overlord.

The rest of the playable characters match her idiosyncrasies. The demons that join her initially, Cackie, Chuckie, and Chortie, are each very different in appearance after their initial transformations, with Cackie taking the form of a sophisticated blonde butler, Chuckie adopting the guise of a tattooed, muscle-bound strongman, and Chortie appearing as the sort of neon-clad young girl you might find walking down a geekily fashionable street in Tokyo.

Etrange is also joined by servants from her mortal life, such as the unsubtly named maid “Sweetia,” responsible for keeping Etrange full of cake. The cast is appealing, with some interesting design work, that whilst not always flying to the heights of the best of the genre, still stands well amongst its peers. Etrange Overlord manages to tell some compelling stories for this crew and their antagonists, but it lacks depth. If Etrange Overord’s narrative is the river Styx, like Achilles, you’ll only get your ankle wet. 

This trend towards an almost visual novel style is emphasised by the side content, which falls into two categories: side stories that tell little vignettes from the lives of Etrange and her friends and foes, and chef stories that show Etrange delighting in the spicy meals of hell, served to her by the rest of the cast. These episodes are presented in a similar fashion to the skits from the Tales games.

Etrange Overlord‘s side stories are largely essential to the plot, and I would not recommend missing them, even if not all are crucial to developments. The food-focused tales mostly follow the same format: Etrange is reluctantly introduced to a new delicacy before ecstatically rhapsodising over its qualities, like a foodtuber delivering sponsored content. The interludes are enjoyable, although they did occasionally make me drift off mentally, as the “bit” becomes a little wearing over time.

Luckily, the intermittent battles form an otherworldly distraction from these segments. Fun and fast, each has its own objective, whether that be destroying all the enemies on the screen, or delivering items back to a base area: all fairly standard goals familiar to anyone who’s played video games for more than a few minutes. Some objectives, such as holding zones until they are captured, feel like an exercise in patience (it’s a virtue, after all). Bosses provide diversion, as you can only defeat them by figuring out their special weakness in traditional fashion, often using environmental factors to your advantage.

It’s all a bit chaotic, and you’ll find yourself dashing about here and there, as you decide whether to fight your enemy head-on or charge around the lanes, desperately hoping to pick up some worthwhile enhancements. It’s fun, but also imprecise, and I never truly felt that I was in command of a situation, or learning to better use the lanes to my advantage, as the element of random chance is strong.

There are secondary objectives that are revealed after you first conquer a level, adding some replayability and incentive to gather more resources, but I felt little urge to do so for the most part. You can even play them cooperatively with a few friends. I commend the studio for trying something new, but in the end, it didn’t quite send me to the Rapture that some might be hoping for.

Conquering these levels and completing side stories raises Etrange’s Happy Life level. The higher this goes, the more varied the resources she can purchase, and the greater her lane level increases. Lanes are upgradable, so that the bonuses you pick up become more effective in specific ways chosen by you. You can also upgrade weapons for characters. It’s not especially thrilling, but you can choose to engage with it minimally to a certain extent, although doing so can make levels more challenging.

A large robot with a drill for a hand kneels down in Etrange Overlord.
Robots in hell? Why the hell not?

I should also mention the musical element, something that harks back to Niikawa’s early work, Rhapsody: A Musical Adventure. At times, characters in Etrange Overlord break into song, describing current events as if they’re in the West End and time is running short. These little moments are all too brief and infrequently scattered throughout Etrange Overlord.

I would prefer that these were either full-on musical numbers featuring distinctive songwriting or, alternatively, that they kept the operatic nature while leaning into it, with singing much more prevalent. In the end, it feels a little jarring and out of place, even though seeing the spotlight come in to highlight the performers just before they begin warbling is something that always drew a smile from me.

In a way, Etrange Overlord is exactly what many of us hope for from smaller titles. It has flair, it is not some object forced out by cookie-cutter conformism, and most of all, it is experimental, reaching for something larger studios would be afraid to touch. It’s also compact, with play times unlikely to greatly exceed 16 hours, except for the most avid completionists. The end result does not quite achieve celestial perfection, falling some way short of the mark, but as a famous fallen angel once said, “It’s better to reign in Hell than serve in Heaven.”

  • Graphics: 78
  • Sound: 74
  • Gameplay: 75
  • Control: 70
  • Story: 76
75
Overall Score
(not an average)

About our grading scale

Review by · March 19, 2026 · 9:10 am

,Pokémon spin-off games are as broad-ranging and varied as the colorful creatures that populate their digital worlds. From puzzle games to pinball, from roguelike dungeon crawlers to photography simulations, it’s practically a law of nature that if you can picture a game concept, you can probably put Pokémon into it, and it works. Yet, after all these many genre experiments and 30 years of the franchise among the largest media properties on the planet, somehow it took until now to throw Animal Crossing, Minecraft, and Pokémon into a blender.

Taking a kitchen-sink approach to game design can often spell disaster, as various disparate parts muddle together into a bland mess or conflict with one another, especially when each major inspiration has such a well-defined identity. Luckily, Omega Force and GameFreak had the solid foundation of previous Dragon Quest Builders games to build upon. The Pokémon Pokopia team constructed an architectural masterpiece of game design that lifts exactly what it needs from its myriad inspirations, simultaneously nailing an experience that feels unique yet remains true to the core ethos (Gotta Catch ’em All) that’s cemented Pokémon’s popularity and dominance over three decades.

Pokémon Pokopia begins with Ditto, transformation pokémon extraordinaire, waking up in a cave all alone. Unsure of their circumstances, with only an old photo of their human trainer indicating their origins, Ditto adopts a facsimile of their trainer’s appearance and wanders off, quickly stumbling across a Tangrowth suffering from a similar predicament. The Pokémon world experienced an ecological disaster that razed human civilization, disrupted the symbiotic relationship between humans and Pokémon, and led to the disappearance of all human life under mysterious circumstances. A dark premise for a cute life-sim game, to be sure, yet also a wonderful creative opportunity for both our Pokémon protagonists and the player.

This state of nature serves as a blank slate, and responsibility for rebuilding society rests with Ditto and Tangrowth. Our unlikely pair remains hopeful that revitalizing the environment may bring the humans back home. Breadcrumbs in the form of text logs left by humans offer snippets of insight into the central mystery of what happened to the world, yet the bleak subtext is fittingly obscured by the hopeful optimism inherent in creating a utopia for Pokémon. Each major leg of the journey sees Ditto and Tangrowth traveling to a new area reclaimed by nature, gathering up a wide variety of Pokémon inhabitants, and rebuilding a new world atop the ruins left behind by humanity. 

Ditto and friends outside a Pokémon Center in Pokémon Pokopia, other Dittos run around to demonstrate multiplayer mode!
Nothing is as satisfying as seeing the smiles on your Pokémon’s faces when the town is finally booming.

How do you even begin to undertake this monumental task? By building habitats for Pokémon, of course! Creating hospitable locations to lure scattered creatures back forms the core gameplay loop here, and it’s endlessly creative in execution. Pokopia posits that through the power of community, it is possible to rebuild what was lost, but better than before. Casting the player as a Ditto proves genius because Ditto’s unique power is one of mimicry; he molds his gooey form into a dopey-faced facsimile of any object or Pokémon he sees and replicates their abilities. Making friends with a wandering Bulbasaur grants Ditto the ability to cultivate tall grasses, and luring a Hitmonchan back to town with a rudimentary training gym allows him to pass on his Rock Smashing fists.

Connection by connection, Ditto’s repertoire of abilities grows, enabling him to cut wood like Scyther, shoot water like Squirtle, surf the waves like Lapras, and eventually even fly like Dragonite. You use these abilities constantly, guided by the Pokedex dropping hints about which habitats attract which species of Pokémon to your location. Things start small, initially just patches of tall grass, fields of flowers, and positioning various odds and ends left behind by humanity. Eventually, as the population of Pokémon expands and their demands for comfort and fulfillment grow more complex, entire housing structures and utilities, such as electricity generation, farming, and resource refinement, become necessary. 

Pokopia doles out these concepts piecemeal at a steady pace, ensuring that completion of one task leads effortlessly into the pursuit of another. While no individual system is particularly deep, the way these systems work in concert ensures each one feels impactful. There are only a handful of crops to farm and cooking recipes, yet cooking and eating meals temporarily upgrades Ditto’s abilities and allows you to farm and mine more efficiently, so engaging in these systems is always worthwhile. There are only three power-generative structures you can build, but establishing an electric grid powers homes, decorative elements, and useful structures like shops and vending machines. Herein lies the masterful design philosophy of Pokopia: never overload the player with too many options, but make sure each option serves multiple functions. Many simulation titles get bogged down in complexity, minutiae, and repetition. Pokopia largely avoids those pitfalls through its clever minimalism, giving the player tools just sufficient to exercise their creative muscles, but not so many that they get lost in the weeds. 

Ditto working at the crafting bench in Pokémon Pokopia with Bulbasaur looking on.
Crafting is an integral part of rebuilding the world.

The core progression structure is integral to this careful balance of managed simplicity. Pokémon will often make requests of Ditto, things to improve their living space, or new ideas they’ve come up with to address low-stakes communal problems. Fulfilling these requests may prompt a Pokémon to teach Ditto a new ability, remind them of a crafting recipe, or increase their overall happiness. As the happiness of your inhabitants rises, so does the overall quality of your community and the number of Pokecenter PC-based challenges you can complete with their own rewards. Major story events lead you through all the various aspects of establishing and managing a thriving community. Fundamentally, these tasks are a form of tutorialization for what will be possible in the endgame. However, you are granted so much freedom in how to approach them that every lesson feels like a satisfying step forward on your journey of discovery. The real-time clock system can occasionally stymie progress (any large prefabricated structure requires a full real day to complete), but there are always meaningful tasks to accomplish while waiting. I found that after the initial frustration wore off, an occasional construction roadblock simply shifted my focus elsewhere.

The boldest step Pokopia takes compared to its predecessors is the lack of combat. The combat in the Dragon Quest Builders titles was functional, but easily the least robust aspect of the game design. Pokopia replaces violence with the social simulation aspects of Animal Crossing, but without many of the structural limitations that plague the recent entries in that series. Many Animal Crossing fans lament how Nintendo sanded down villager personalities into a handful of inoffensive typecasts, eliminating opportunities for interpersonal conflict. Pokopia, by contrast, has a much wider variety of Pokémon personality types. More alien or mechanical Pokémon like Vibrava or Magneton speak with a robotic diction, brawny Pokémon like Machoke or Gurdurr carry a sense of self-confident exuberance, and mystical Pokémon like Alakazam or Gardevoir convey a haughty, regal air in their sophisticated manner of speech. There is no evolution system here, so each evolutionary stage of a species gets its own chance to shine, and members of an evolutionary line can be as different in personality as they are in physical appearance. 

While all Pokémon treat Ditto with respect (he is their leader, after all), the social interactions between Pokémon often exhibit interpersonal conflict. One memorable example I witnessed involved rivals Heracross and Pinsir arguing over who was stronger than Graveler. The heated exchange ended with Pinsir expressing gratitude that I had put their habitats on opposite ends of town, so they could stay out of each other’s sights! Another memorable exchange involved Flygon and Ninetails, who are each too prim and proper to engage in base verbal mudslinging, yet would give each other duplicitous compliments while passive-aggressively muttering under their breath their true feelings. This willingness to introduce low-stakes interpersonal conflict grants Pokopia a level of character authenticity that many cozy games lack. Residents aren’t shy about letting Ditto know when they are unhappy with their living arrangements, and making too many rapid changes to their environment can cause the overall happiness of your community to drop precipitously if you’re not careful. These small-scale social conflicts and consequences help Pokopia avoid the artificiality that pervades Animal Crossing: New Horizons; each resident comes across as a unique individual with preferences and personality, not just palette swaps. 

Ditto has a tea party with Gardevoir, Cinccino, Vulpix, and Espeon in Pokémon Pokopia. Mareep is taking a nap on a nearby elegant bed.
This may look like a pleasant tea party, but unseen social drama bubbles beneath the surface.

Although the core storyline is important, any good sim game thrives on delivering more to do long after the credits roll. Pokopia doesn’t disappoint here either, with an entire sandbox location (Palette Town) that incorporates all previous biomes into one big playground. This is the main multiplayer playspace; you can invite players to visit any of the five major areas and marvel at your creations, but Palette Town is the only location where friends can also build and harvest resources. Pokémon residents can move between every location, and while only 30 residents can wander around the field at any one time, you can swap them out or summon them at will so long as they have appropriate housing. The town accommodates potentially hundreds of NPCs, plus other players, into a single location, which is where you really feel the subtle impact of the Switch 2 hardware.

Another meaningful innovation is the ability to take a picture of any object out in the world (or in another player’s world) and replicate a copy using the 3D printer in any Pokémon Center. No more waiting days or weeks for a particular item to show up in the shop, or reliance on a kind friend to drop the item for you, which is a godsend and provides additional incentive to visit with friends to marvel at their creations. 

Pokopia is a rare example of a game that takes inspiration from as many genre juggernauts as possible, yet ultimately exceeds them all. The building mechanics may not be quite as expansive as Minecraft, and not all of the 1000+ Pokémon creatures feature here (though weekly events are scheduled to add more). Yet, by combining the strongest core elements of city builders, social simulations, and creature-raising RPGs, Pokopia emerges from the rubble as a monumentally addictive achievement in game design that millions of players will enjoy for years to come.

  • Graphics: 90
  • Sound: 90
  • Gameplay: 95
  • Control: 90
  • Story: 85
95
Overall Score
(not an average)

About our grading scale

Review by · March 18, 2026 · 12:00 pm

First impressions can prove quite misleading, a sentiment explored many times over in the otome visual novel Temirana: The Lucky Princess and the Tragic Knights. What initially appears to be a more light-hearted romantasy tale contains surprising depth as you delve into its routes, culminating in a VN experience that’s both heartfelt and oddly nostalgic.

The plot centers around the fortune-favoring kingdom of Temirana that, on paper, seems relatively peaceful despite the societal divides that aren’t as easily swept under the rug as its nobility hopes. The kingdom values luck above all else, creating a caste system that notoriously favors only a small section of the populace without much room for potential advancement, not to mention there’s a great calamity set to befall the world that promises to plunge it into chaos after several generations of stability.

Against this backdrop, our protagonist Cecilia has spent her entire young life in isolation and adversity. The third princess of Temirana is a “cursed” number in the royal lineage, looked upon with disdain by most of the noble peerage. To combat this stigma, Cecilia strives to become a “perfect princess” so she never brings shame on her family or others.

The story proper begins with preparations for Cecilia’s coming-of-age ceremony, when the royals of Temirana establish their own personal order of knights. In quick order, Cecilia encounters several potential candidates, but there’s just one tiny problem with her efforts in recruiting them: many aren’t interested in becoming knights one way or the other, and others are technically barred from doing so due to their societal classes. Can Cecilia convince the candidates to join her order, proving that they’re more than qualified for the task while also helping to prepare her kingdom for the potential disaster that looms on the horizon?

Cecilia and Kiya share a moment together in Temirana: The Lucky Princess and the Tragic Knights.
The amnesiac Kiya’s route is, surprisingly to me, the most memorable one.

That question is the driving force of Temirana‘s common route, serving as a significant part of the otome’s plot. The other half of the narrative depends on which character route you take afterwards. These character routes include Josephy, the ousted prince from a conquered kingdom; the sickly but earnest and imaginative noble Tobias; the antisocial sweets-lover blacksmith Milan; the caring peasant just looking out for his large family, Adel; and the often-overlooked orphan suffering from chronic memory loss, Kiya.

Once you’re on one of their routes, you’ll uncover an extensive second half of the story that reveals more of the overall lore-building while also making you curious about the other routes at the same time. There’s also a secret hidden route once you see all five potential knights’ stories.

Temirana is a surprisingly meaty game, made all the more so by the fact that the five main characters are all quite likable and have memorable backstories and personalities. The more I played, the more I wanted to keep playing, which is a testament to the game’s overall story and presentation. While my personal favorite route ended up being Kiya’s due to its unexpected heartfeltness, I give the game credit for not having any problematic or unenjoyable routes. I never felt like there were any you had to force yourself to play through, which is rare in an otome.

Milan explaining why he'd make a terrible knight captain in Temirana: The Lucky Princess and the Tragic Knights.
…I’m intrigued. Tell me more!

Given that Temirana is a visual novel, the overall focus on its story and world-building is certainly its biggest strength.  I felt many of the side characters in the plot were memorable and had surprising moments to shine too, while some of the “villain” characters were so stereotypically evil or conniving that their scenes were delightfully hammy. This being an otome, it is important to note that the romance element develops naturally over the course of the narrative, not feeling shoehorned in at unbelievable times.

Temirana plays very much like a traditional VN, with you as Cecilia reading through texts and dialogue until you reach a decision point. These choices are often binary and lead to different outcomes in a given scene or affect a love interest’s affection meter. Even the “ability” of Cecilia to sense danger at times leads to a binary response choice, so there isn’t really any attempt to do anything outside of the standard VN gameplay box, but given that the story and cast are entertaining enough to keep you invested, it really doesn’t require other gimmicks.

You can save anywhere, check the affection meter status for the character routes, skip previously read text should you want to quickly advance through a later playthrough, and you can even unlock extra little audio dramas to listen to in your collectibles menu alongside the standard CG illustration and movie viewing options. There’s a rather detailed story map, too, for keeping track of progress and the like.

A response choice must be made in Temirana: The Lucky Princess and the Tragic Knights.
The dialogue response choices are the run-of-the-mill binary sort.

Temirana: The Lucky Princess and the Tragic Knights is a good-looking VN with colorful art that brings its fantasy world to life. There’s something of a dated look to some of the unlockable CG illustrations, but I don’t mean that in a bad way! There’s just something about the visuals and UI that’s reminiscent of older otome games. The character art is expressive and nicely detailed, but I just wish there were more of it for tertiary characters who still have a presence in the plot, rather than just having their voices heard.

Speaking of voices, everyone in Temirana‘s cast does a fantastic job getting into their characters and delivering their lines. My only real complaint is that, despite how determined and nuanced Cecilia becomes in the narrative, the game forgoes voice acting for her altogether. The music certainly does the trick in setting the narrative, with the opening theme delightfully catchy. The localization is also top-notch, with only a few typographical errors at times (easy to mentally correct) throughout what ends up being a lengthy script.

I found myself constantly wanting to play Temirana, and getting onto the paths for the routes’ good endings never failed to make me smile or feel giddy. It’s an enjoyable otome VN that actually caught me off guard, given how it initially appears overly cute, but then throws in some surprisingly dark fantasy elements without things becoming terribly bleak.

I love the main cast of characters and many of their allies, with every new scene featuring a particular character making me want to know them just a little more. The fact that the routes themselves skew more towards heartwarming, non-problematic stories is also a nice touch. Temirana: The Lucky Princess and the Tragic Knights is a sentimental romantasy VN I can easily recommend to fans of the genre!

  • Graphics: 86
  • Sound: 87
  • Gameplay: 82
  • Control: 81
  • Story: 88
85
Overall Score
(not an average)

About our grading scale

Review by · March 17, 2026 · 12:00 pm

The year is 20XX. The great city of Toronto is beset with three warring gangs: the Demons, the Robots, and, perhaps most fearsome of all, the Vegans. If that’s not bad enough, local legend Scott Pilgrim witnesses his best friends-slash-Sex Bob-omb bandmates kidnapped by the mysterious Metal Scott mere hours before their big gig. Can Scott, his girlfriend Ramona Flowers, and a motley crew of Ramona’s repentant Evil Exes band together and save the day? More importantly, is Scott Pilgrim EX a worthy follow-up on a beloved Canadian franchise?

As a longtime fan of the Scott Pilgrim series (and former Toronto resident), I’m happy to say it’s very worthy. Scott Pilgrim EX is the perfect storm: series creator Bryan Lee O’Malley returns to write the story, set after the events of the original comic and its 2023 sequel animated show, as do chiptune legends Anamanaguchi to compose the soundtrack after their incredible work on Ubisoft’s 2010 beat ‘em up Scott Pilgrim vs. the World: The Game and said sequel show. And there’s no better developer to handle a fresh new Scott Pilgrim beat ’em up than Tribute Games, who’ve proven their chops in the genre with 2022’s Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles: Shredder’s Revenge and 2025’s Marvel Cosmic Invasion.

But rather than simply retreading well-worn paths, Scott Pilgrim EX surprises with many of its design choices. You and a potential four friends—online or on your couch—won’t be traveling through a series of linear levels of escalating difficulty. Instead, Toronto is an open world of 2D belt-scrolling screens randomly populated by one of the three gangs, procedurally scaled to your current level. This freedom comes at the cost of level length and depth, as it only takes a handful of screens to reach each end of Toronto, and you’ll eventually be sprinting end to end in a matter of seconds.

Toronto as depicted in Scott Pilgrim EX, with Scott slightly in the foreground navigating construction sites and pedestrians.
Toronto, faithfully rendered right down to the constant construction blocking the streetcars.

The game’s progression, then, comes with a series of twelve quests allowing Scott to rescue each of his bandmates and use their instruments in a very Ocarina of Time fashion to travel through rifts in spacetime. This may require a bit of errand-running back and forth, like carrying keys across the city without dropping them, or bringing bombs to cracks in walls a la The Legend of Zelda to find secret rooms.

The payoff of this open-world structure is that Scott Pilgrim EX’s Toronto is a vibrant, living setting, thoroughly gorgeous to behold. Despite the 20XX label, the colorful visuals pay tribute to games of the 1990s (in keeping with the series’ retro game adoration), particularly Sonic the Hedgehog, Street Fighter, and Mega Man. I could list a dozen other new and old games referenced (and I have, in my notes!) However, I think it’s best if players discover the tribute trove for themselves.

Best of all, the callbacks in Scott Pilgrim EX feel joyful and celebratory of gaming’s yesteryears rather than twee or winking. You can chuck green koopa shells down Queen Street to bowl over a line of vicious Vegans, and Guile-flash-kick Mortal Kombat-esque Demon ninjas and Robots that look fresh out of Dr. Wiley’s factory, and it all somehow gels perfectly. I love the visuals in this game.

Castlevania-ish preamble to a boss fight in Scott Pilgrim EX.
I swear the references are not always this on-the-nose!

I’d be remiss if I didn’t shout out the familiarity that clearly went into Scott Pilgrim EX‘s depiction of Toronto. Casa Loma is reoutfitted as the vampire-housing Casa Vania. The iconic nacho joint Sneaky Dee’s is here presented as Tricky Dee’s, an item shop; the same goes for Honest Ed’s (here: Honest Ex’s), the beloved thrift shop that tragically went under in 2016. High Park, the Distillery District, and Dundas all appear, populated by characters of Scott Pilgrim yore. I realize not everyone will get the same kick out of the visuals as I did, but we Canadians deserve this win.

“Yeah, yeah, references. But how’s the punching?” As expected from Tribute Game’s gameography, the combat is another win. Light, heavy, grab, and special attacks are here, as are equipable assist attacks from plenty of characters who didn’t make the playable cut. What’s more, each of the seven playable characters feels unique. I appreciate that beyond Scott and Ramona, the characters from the last Scott Pilgrim beat ‘em up, now the aforementioned friends in need of rescue, are replaced with a new roster (of past villains!): Roxie the ninja, Matthew Patel the puppeteer, wrestler (and movie star) Lucas Lee, zoner Robot-01, and, surprisingly, series antagonist Gideon Graves, here a rushdown “pressurer.”

There are no unlockable moves; rather, battling and collecting or purchasing items boosts your vitality, willpower (mana), strength, and agility. Stick with one character, and by the end of the Scott Pilgrim EX‘s three-hour or so adventure, you’ll be level 300, maxed out, and flying around the screen with each jump. There are also purchasable accessories and badges to boost your stats and provide other bonuses, though nothing that flips the game on its head. I saw no reason beyond sampling movesets to play as more than one character in my first solo playthrough, as the game was rather challenging in its later quests and I needed all the stats I could pour into one character.

Character select screen in Scott Pilgrim EX.
Now you see why they called it Scott Pilgrim EX!

The first half of Scott Pilgrim EX, when my vitality was low, was a bit frustrating in my constant need to backtrack to earlier shops to buy corndogs or vegan sodas to heal my character, only to be assaulted by baddies on every street and forced yet again to waste my hard-earned loonies and toonies (that’s 1- and 2-dollar coins for you non-Canadians). The lack of a life system raises the strategic bar going into each boss encounter, but it didn’t jive with the lack of options for replenishing health.

Annoyingly, bosses and main quests are unrepeatable, meaning you have to start a New Game Plus carrying over your character stats and items if you want to, say, see all seven of Scott Pilgrim EX‘s endings. When partying up with strangers online, I couldn’t see what quest other players were on, meaning I was dropping in and out with oddly balanced levels for the sole purpose of earning more money and levels for my own roster. The crossplay coop experience was chaotic yet very smooth (a huge upgrade from Scott Pilgrim vs. the World: The Game’s choppy mess), though the game could better communicate other players’ stats.

Another unfortunate miss was the writing. I love the world and characters Bryan Lee O’Malley has created, though the jokes in Scott Pilgrim EX missed far more often than they hit. This is due in large part to the lack of romance between its key characters and lack of seriousness in the the story’s stakes. Teaming up with the former bad guys felt like Mario playing tennis with Bowser, with all past history scrubbed over so that Scott and co. could be Mickey Mouseified to appeal to new (and younger) players.

There is a win in that: this game would be a blast to play even for kids with little knowledge of ‘90s gaming minutiae. But while the lack of story focus here makes it approachable, Scott Pilgrim EX loses a lot of the magic that makes the series worth approaching.

Food item shop in Scott Pilgrim EX.
The sarcastic Julie Powers returns, and with more than one part-time job!

Lastly, the music. I could have spent half the review gushing about Anamanaguchi’s soundtrack to Scott Pilgrim EX. They were my favourite band in high school (around when the movie and first game dropped), and I was overjoyed to see their return here, and with their largest-scale project ever to boot. 71 tracks across an hour and a half means that rather than delve into longer stage-specific songs, each screen and shop has its own short looping track. Anamanaguchi stretches their traditionally 8-bit chiptune sound in Scott Pilgrim EX, as they’ve been doing in their non-soundtrack discography, to make a mesh of tracks that reminded me of the cohesive chaos of Undertale or Deltarune‘s music.

The soundtrack is not always melodically complex, considering players hear short snippets of each track as they dash back and forth through Toronto’s streets, bars, and inter-dimensional subspace highways. Instead, the music favors immediate, looping catchiness and mood-setting. Combined with the eclectic and retro-amour visuals, Scott Pilgrim EX makes for one of my favourite game aesthetics, and one that reminds me why I love this medium.

Scott Pilgrim EX appeals to me in many ways, mostly in how it lets me reflect on my life in and out of gaming. It’s endlessly entertaining on the eyes and ears, and it has the best belt-scrolling combat this side of Streets of Rage 4. The swings it takes in terms of pushing its genre or reaching towards a new audience don’t always connect, but it’s still a quick, joyful experience I’m happy to continue playing both solo and with loved ones (and you random people online, I guess).

  • Graphics: 100
  • Sound: 90
  • Gameplay: 80
  • Control: 80
  • Story: 70
85
Overall Score
(not an average)

About our grading scale

Review by · March 11, 2026 · 12:00 pm

Truth be told, I don’t have a lot of familiarity with Souls-likes. I can list the number of games in the punishing-yet-ultimately-rewarding genre I’ve played on one hand, but I hold great respect for them and those gamers who strive to master them, even while wholeheartedly admitting they aren’t in my wheelhouse.

Still, I was largely curious about Bandai Namco’s Souls-like series Code Vein because of developer Shift‘s involvement, since they created the action RPG series God Eater that I’m rather fond of. Code Vein II is a fun game if you’re the audience for it and can get past some incredibly frustrating boss fights, but it can also be a massive time commitment and probably isn’t going to compare to the greats of the Souls-like genre or the Souls series’ critically acclaimed Elden Ring.

Code Vein II is set in a world already wrecked by calamity, and mankind’s place on top of the food chain has been replaced by the near-immortal Revenants (vampires, for all intents and purposes). Some Revenants try to live peaceably with humans, while others see humanity’s waning population as nothing more than a walking food supply. To keep both species from dying out entirely, a group of powerful Revenants in the past became part of a living seal to stave off destruction, an act akin to applying a Band-Aid to a stab wound. Now, in the narrative’s current timeline, the heroes’ sacrificial seals have begun to destabilize, bringing the world once more close to ruin.

The player takes on the role of a Revenant Hunter: a human who combats Revenants to protect people. After a horrific attack, the Hunter is saved from certain death by a gentle Revenant with time-traveling abilities named Lou, who volunteers part of her heart to keep them alive. Thanks to their newfound heart connection, she can physically bring the Revenant Hunter back in time. In a last-ditch effort to save the world once more, the duo must go back in time to awaken the sacrificed heroes in the present and destroy them before their seals erode away completely. Since Code Vein II is a Souls-like game, doing so is naturally no easy task, taking extreme physical and emotional tolls.

The Revenant Hunter and Lou stand near a time portal in Code Vein II.
The Revenant Hunter and Lou lie at the “heart” of the story.

To say more on Code Vein II’s story would be to delve into spoiler territory, something I’m remiss to do because its lore and narrative are actually highlights, so I’ll just say I enjoyed the plot immensely, especially how it handled its time travel aspect and how that ultimately leads to acquiring the game’s “good” ending depending on your actions in both the past and present timelines.

The characters are also quite interesting, with the sacrificed heroes being tragic figures you can’t help but feel for and want to help out, even as you know that it’ll conflict with your Revenant Hunter’s overall goals. Supporting characters in the sacrificed heroes’, as well as Lou and the Revenant Hunter’s, orbits are also nuanced and memorable. Even with the difficulty spikes and sometimes incredibly frustrating fights, I found the plot and its characters provided more than enough motivation to keep plowing ahead. I also appreciate that you don’t need to have familiarity with the first Code Vein to enjoy Code Vein II, as its story is largely standalone.

Gameplay-wise, Code Vein II is incredibly challenging and punishing, tempered somewhat by player freedom through customization choices. You have multiple weapons in your arsenal, each with its own strengths and weaknesses. I gravitated towards the one-handed swords and kept a handful of them sufficiently upgraded at all times, but there are also slower-moving powerhouse weapons like two-handed great swords or long-range ones like bayonets. You can also shortcut and equip different abilities and attacks to weapons for a truly versatile array of moves.

You can optimize defense using shields, increase sprinting speed, or parry, depending on the type of defensive gear you want to wield. Tons of strategic variations help you develop a play style that works best for you, with the game encouraging experimentation.

A boss battle screenshot from Code Vein II.
Some boss battles require distinctive strategies to overcome them.

Enemy-dropped Haze counts as your currency, meaning you must choose between leveling up or upgrading gear (provided you have enough crafting materials), further encouraging strategic freedom. Code Vein II also allows you to travel and fight alongside a partner character, who give support or take aggro during fights. They’ll even revive you a set number of times should you fall in battle, though this becomes less helpful the more it occurs, as the health restoration they provide upon revival decreases every time.

Depending on your actions during the main story, you’ll often have choices amongst partner characters, all of whom have different fighting styles of their own. There were three partner characters in particular that I liked to use during fights when given the choice, but only because they balanced out my playstyle. Meeting various Revenants throughout the game awards you with valuable Blood Codes, too, which provide various beneficial stat boosts depending on your playstyle or the abilities of certain enemies.

Of course, the main focus of combat in Code Vein II is its boss fights. While your run-of-the-mill enemy encounters can also prove challenging, it’s the boss fights where you’ll find the most challenge. Boss fights in Souls-likes should be notoriously difficult but also ultimately surmountable, giving you a rush of endorphins once you finally and deservedly triumph. I did find several boss fights in Code Vein II to give me this rush once I found the right rhythm for their specific dance.

Unfortunately, not all of the fights are created equal—some rely on gimmicks to the point where they feel largely unfair and cheap, where I struggled endlessly and only conquered them after I found some previously unviable tactic that I then had to quickly master for that trial alone and with no small measure of luck. I didn’t feel as though I “earned” those victories, so they were both frustrating and hollow. There’s also a lot of repeat boss fights, particularly on the paths to the three endings you can uncover, as they certainly took the “earn your happy ending” sentiment to heart with this game.

The Revenant Hunter and Noah uncover one of the Towers of Regeneration in Code Vein II.
Finding as many Towers of Regeneration as you can is quite a boon.

Code Vein II features a large, expansive open world. You can travel on foot or by using a convenient motorcycle, and you can also fast travel between mistle save points once you find them. Mistles are where you level up, change your gear, and replenish healing stock. Save for the small settlements you uncover every so often, the world itself is a largely barren place that feels quite lonely even despite your partner character.

There are some incentives to traveling through the world, mainly to acquire haze and crafting materials or to strengthen and increase the number of heals you can use during fights, but I often fast-traveled to get through it quickly if I wasn’t actively trying to do those things or finish up an ally’s personal quest.

You can also travel to the past at various points on the map, creating pockets of areas that are somewhat different than what you’ll find in the present to travel through. Depending on actions taken in the past areas, you can actually change the terrain or story encounters in the present in pretty interesting ways, illustrated in particular through the evolution of the Sunken City area.

Visually, Code Vein II is good-looking, but it also suffers from severe clipping issues. The character creator for the Revenant Hunter is easily one of the most in-depth I’ve had the pleasure of trying out and I love how unique the character designs are, with Lou in particular sporting a standout design. Sure, you’ll have objects disappear through clothing and the like during cutscenes or someone or something might suddenly pop in and out of view as you’re progressing through the game. The camera could also swivel rather unhelpfully during combat, which isn’t great when you’re struggling to survive a boss fight.

I also had a bizarre glitch late in the game that I was never able to fix, where my second weapon equipment slot became completely unusable and acted as if nothing was equipped to it. Thankfully, my first weapon slot still registered, so I didn’t have to punch my way through the rest of the game, but I had a pretty good panic over that bug when it first happened and became nervous anytime I had to fiddle with equipment afterwards.

Dialogue choices pop up from time to time during story scenes in Code Vein II.
Player choice sometimes plays a small role in story scenes, including dialogue choices to “flavor” the Revenant Hunter’s personality somewhat.

Sound-wise, I can’t really complain about the voice direction. I love the game’s English voice acting as everyone does an entertaining job in their roles, though the voice actor for Zenon in particular is a standout. The musical number introduction they do for his character alone is worth playing the game for! The localization is spot-on, too, with nary an error in the script.

Speaking of music, Code Vein II‘s lead composer is the illustrious Go Shiina, a composer I’ve been enamored with ever since my early days of playing God Eater, and the soundtrack is definitely a highlight, full of great atmospheric tracks like the Main Theme as well as memorably haunting boss themes and vocal songs that capture a wide array of emotions depending on the moments when they play.

Code Vein II is a game that’s in equal parts frustrating and entertaining. I spent hours on several challenging boss fights and sometimes, admittedly, wanted to cry from fruitless efforts to beat them, but the compelling narrative and characters kept me invested all the way to the end and even prompted me to take on optional fights to see things through to the fullest.

It’s not perfect by any means, and it certainly isn’t the best Souls-like game out there, but it does show the heart and potential Shift puts into their games and has me hoping once more to hear about their future endeavors. If nothing else, Code Vein II is worth more than a cursory glance if it happens to catch your eye.

  • Graphics: 80
  • Sound: 85
  • Gameplay: 82
  • Control: 83
  • Story: 84
83
Overall Score
(not an average)

About our grading scale

Review by · March 10, 2026 · 12:00 pm

Adolescence is a messy, awkward journey filled with emotional peaks and valleys. If you could turn back time, would you take back that awful, if honest, thing you said to your mom? Would you reconnect with that old friend you grew apart from? Would you save that unpopular girl from getting hit by a football, roadside splash, or pool noodle? Life is Strange Remastered packages these teenage, time-traveling woes into an entrancing story that achieves the high stakes you’d want from a great season of a TV drama while touching upon some very raw and real emotions.

First, why write this review now? While the complete Life is Strange Remastered dropped in 2022, the original Life is Strange released its five episodes from January through October 2015, meaning we’ve recently passed the ten-year anniversary of its conclusion. While new Life is Strange titles have continually released since, this March’s Life is Strange: Reunion will finally revisit both of the original game’s protagonists, Max and Chloe. I encourage readers to check out Jerry Williams’ 2015 reviews of Episode 1: Chrysalis, Episode 2: Out of Time, Episode 3: Chaos Theory, Episode 4: Dark Room, and Episode 5: Polarized.

The seaside town of Arcadia Bay, Washington, is rocked by the disappearance of young Rachel Amber, a bright student at the town’s prestigious Blackwell Academy. Enter 18-year-old Max Caulfield, returning after several years to her native Arcadia Bay to study photography at Blackwell. When Max witnesses her childhood best friend, Chloe Price, gunned down over a botched drug deal on campus, Max discovers her ability to rewind time. With her newfound powers, Max spares Chloe her tragic fate and ignites a weeklong adventure that will uncover the mystery behind the missing Rachel Amber, throw the natural world into disarray, and maybe, just maybe, snag Max a date to the drive-in movies.

Life Is Strange Remastered Collection, also the Life Is Strange Arcadia Bay Collection on Switch
Max. Never Maxine.

Narratively, Life is Strange has aged very well in that its heightened American drama would nestle neatly among ultra-popular, small-town paranormal TV series that followed it, such as Stranger Things or Wednesday. In turn, Life is Strange pays clear homage to its many inspirations: various license plates reference Twin Peaks or Donnie Darko, many story beats mirror The Butterfly Effect, and Max Caulfield and her journey with self-expression are a nod to The Catcher in the Rye’s Holden Caulfield.

Sure, it’s clearly a French dev team indulging in Americanophilia, but this gives the game a certain timelessness (if you’ll excuse the pun). As the opening track from composer Jonathan Morali sings: “I wish I had an American girlfriend…”

Episode 1 of Life is Strange especially feels like a pastiche of Americanisms with its introduction of the cast. Thankfully, many of the paper-thin side characters (students and staff at Blackwell Academy) are fleshed out and become more endearing with later episodes. The real draw, though, is Max and Chloe. Max goes from a self-cringing, selfie-taking outcast to a strong and empathetic young adult. Chloe, who seems inseparable from tragedy, drops her punk, laissez-faire wall brick by brick, as only she shares in the knowledge of Max’s time-rewinding powers. Max’s love for Chloe will quickly become your love for Chloe.

Gameplay is mainly exploring Blackwell and Arcadia Bay as Max and talking with the familiar cast. Dialogue lines are unskippable unless you’ve heard them before. The voice acting is earnest and believable from Max and Chloe, though many side characters feel like they’re intentionally hamming up their archetypes, be they jock, skater, or… squirrel-whispering janitor?

Rewinding time lets you tell characters what they want to hear, or else navigate a conversational puzzle. Many points funnel you into more linear paths and environmental puzzles that can be menial rather than mentally stimulating. Episode 2 may make you wonder, did Max gain time-control powers just so she can collect bottles in a junkyard or pick up boxes without clumsily knocking something over? But mostly, the puzzles are varied enough that their spotty quality never detracts from the intertwining narratives or the great narrative pacing.

This being my second playthrough, the years have cemented a kind of 2010s time capsule quality to Life is Strange. I was born in the same year as the main characters, and though I may cringe at early dialogue like “ubercool” and “amazeballs,” I’m certainly not innocent of a few “cool beans” myself.

Chloe Price looks shocked in Life is Strange Remastered
“I thought you were my hella awesomesauce friend! Are you cereal?”

The licensed soundtrack, featuring indie acts like Bright Eyes, Local Natives, Alt-J, and Mogwai, might as well be lifted from the iPod of a Canadian teen just tryna be cool. With every movie reference or bad pun in the script, there’s just as much chance for a character to call out another character (or themselves) for trying too hard. This is art and life eating each other’s tails.

I won’t spoil any more of the story because I truly recommend today’s teenagers to give it a try, but I appreciate how Life is Strange tackles heavy issues like sexual assault, cyber-bullying, and drug use so bluntly (pun definitely intended this time). Though that all may seem like standard TV fare, these are topics seldom explored in gaming even today, and rarely this well. Do you, as Max, stand by and watch Chloe’s stepfather hit her for smoking weed in her room, or do you take the fall knowing the consequences will come back to bite you later?

Max’s ability to rewind time means you can see the immediate ramifications of either course, though there’s no telling what comes later. The heavy choices in Life is Strange go from mere hurt feelings in the early episodes to life-or-death decisions by game’s end.

Chloe stands in the middle of a storm in Life is Strange Remastered
This is as much Chloe’s story as it is Max’s.

Seven years between the PS3 originals and the PS4 Remastered collection seems to have done quite little in terms of visuals and performance, sadly. The newer version does feature facial capture performances for some of the main characters, though the smoothed-out textures now make faces plasticky and environments blotchy. In general, Life is Strange Remastered leans more heavily into its borderline Impressionist art direction, often beautiful at a distance yet uncanny up close.

Episode 4’s textures look especially ugly, though the visuals pull back up for the grand finale in Episode 5. I wish the whole package had been given a proper makeover, given the game’s popularity and the years between the original and Remastered releases.

It’s also worth noting that there’s a notorious, nearly game-breaking bug where Max phases through the environment at a narratively sensitive moment in Episode 4 that has still never been addressed, and I only bypassed it with many a Google search and restarted checkpoint. All this to say, if the original Life is Strange is more readily available, it’s not a downgrade.

Life is Strange takes its time setting up a complex pattern of narrative dominoes that fall in increasingly compelling and emotional ways from the end of Episode 3 right up until a gut-wrenching final decision in Episode 5. Its TV-inspired tropes may turn off as many players as it draws in, but it ultimately delivers on its time-warping premise in ways that would make even Ray Bradbury or David Lynch do a double-take. Though the Remastered version doesn’t bring the amazeballs visual improvements this story deserves, this is still an experience I’d readily put in the hands of any teenager, gamer or not.

  • Graphics: 70
  • Sound: 85
  • Gameplay: 75
  • Control: 80
  • Story: 90
84
Overall Score
(not an average)

About our grading scale

Review by · March 3, 2026 · 12:00 pm

Any series builds up expectations by virtue of its existence. The Warriors titles, with their plethora of classic games and cross-franchise spin-offs, have numerous precedents: expansive playable casts that span worlds, decades, and even universes; superficial stories to justify said casts; and straightforward gameplay that often feels like mere button mashing. Hyrule Warriors: Age of Imprisonment, the follow-up to Hyrule Warriors: Age of Calamity and a tie-in to The Legend of Zelda: Tears of the Kingdom, is a solid Warriors title that plays to some of these expectations, but dismisses others in a way that feels surprising, if not exciting.

Like Age of Calamity, Age of Imprisonment can be enjoyed without any prior knowledge of its associated mainline title, Tears of the Kingdom. Those who have experienced Tears of the Kingdom will appreciate the extra depth given to the Six Sages, who are now named and playable. But anyone hoping for an extensive roster of established characters, the norm for Warriors games, might be unpleasantly surprised by Age of Imprisonment. Instead of relying on wacky shenanigans to justify a large cast of fan-favorites, it sticks strictly to a serious story, resulting in noteworthy absences in its character roster.

While some big names are missing from the playable cast, Age of Imprisonment‘s ranks are filled with elevated “generics.” These named side characters are lieutenants or generals of the different Zelda series races—Hylian, Zora, Rito, and Goron—who join King Rauru and Princess Zelda in the war to stop Ganondorf. These characters’ combos aren’t as distinct as the “main” characters’, but they still feel unique enough thanks to them using different weapons.

Not all Rito wield bows, and not all Zora brandish lances. Lago, a Zora, has fast sword strikes that are fun to lash out with. Typhan, a Hylian, has a shield that adds an extra layer of complexity to his moveset. While these sorts of characters don’t make up for the missing key figures, they do help make the setting feel like a true war, where even the “above-average Joe” is participating.

A Hyrule Warriors: Age of Imprisonment screenshot of King Rauru giving a special mask to Ardi of the Gerudo tribe.
Age of Imprisonment gives some much-needed backstory to the ancient Sages featured in Tears of the Kingdom… at the cost of a typical Warriors-style expansive cast.

Still, it’s with the established characters where Age of Imprisonment’s gameplay truly shines. Each character has their own approach to wiping out the hordes of enemies placed in their way. Even those who use the same weapon feel notably distinct, making it a fun experience to try them all out and find a favorite. Zelda, for instance, can stop and rewind time to call back projectiles and land extra damage, while Calamo the Korok tosses specialized bombs between sword swings to inflict elemental damage.

This underlying gameplay can feel like simple button mashing due to the way combos are performed. No matter the character, all the player has to do is press the Y button a certain number of times, then hit X to complete the combo. But because each combo plays out differently for each character, memorizing what each one does and when to use them helps alleviate the innate simplicity.

There are also extra garnishes that help add depth to battles. Throughout Age of Imprisonment, players unlock special equipment called Zonai Devices, which can be used at will during battle with all sorts of effects. Some shoot fire, ice, or water, which is helpful when squaring off against enemies with elemental weaknesses. Others can reflect projectile attacks or propel the character forward through swarms of enemies.

A Hyrule Warriors: Age of Imprisonment screenshot of Zelda wielding a water element Zonai Device shaped like a fire hydrant.
The water element Zonai Device looks like a fire hydrant and that’s fantastic. No notes.

Players can even imbue combo finishers with Zonai Devices for select characters with ties to the technology, such as Mineru and a construct using Link’s visage and temperament, further deepening the game experience with customization. Choosing which Zonai Devices to link up to attacks can be based on personal preference or the map’s needs, such as imbuing an attack with water to target water-weak enemies. These choices add a welcome level of complexity to an otherwise simple set of systems, even if they only apply to a few characters.

Players maintain their army by gaining experience felling monsters in battle, and by improving everyone’s weapons. This is where Age of Imprisonment becomes overwhelming. Weapons require Zonai Steel to upgrade, and they’re split into categories for each type. Players who want to upgrade a one-handed sword need Zonai Steel specifically for one-handed swords—Zonai Steel for two-handed swords just won’t do.

This gets out of hand quite quickly, because not only is the amount of Zonai Steel that can be held at once fairly low, but there are a lot of characters who use the same weapon type. There will be plenty of times when the player is only able to upgrade one character’s sword because of the limited resources. The road to “100% complete” Age of Imprisonment is long and arduous.

There is a silver lining, though: maxing out every weapon isn’t necessary for a run-of-the-mill playthrough. Other character upgrades, however, feel much more pertinent even if they’re technically not required. Each character starts with a limited moveset, and only after completing side quests will their combo tree expand. Side quests involve delivering the noted materials obtained through battle stages and then reaping the rewards. The rewards come in the form of all sorts of upgrades, from the aforementioned combo expansions to permanent health increases, access to stores, and much more. These are simple to ignore, but offer an absurd amount of things to do for those interested in wringing every last drop of unlockables out of Age of Imprisonment.

On top of keeping track of character upgrades, players must also keep track of Hyrule itself, driving Ganondorf’s army out of Hyrule by clearing specific stages in a Nobunaga’s Ambition-inspired manner. Regaining control of an area opens up extra side quests to attempt and grants access to any of its facilities, such as shops and training grounds. Once an area is liberated, enemies may try to retake it, and players have to dispel the attackers in a set amount of time. This back-and-forth gives Age of Imprisonment an intriguing flow, letting players conquer areas at their discretion while also offering some level of structure through timed defenses.

A Hyrule Warriors: Age of Imprisonment screenshot of Mineru attacking with a Zonai construct.
Age of Imprisonment can sometimes feel easy enough to warrant skipping out on weapon upgrades, but expanding everyone’s movesets is always a priority.

Age of Imprisonment successfully balances player freedom with innate structure. Although trying to keep each character evenly leveled or outfitted with high-level weapons gets overwhelming quickly, there’s a comfortable amount of wiggle room to leave some warriors behind. Many maps allow players to select their characters, so they can focus on leveling up weaker ones or just use their higher-leveled favorites. Certain maps do have required characters who can’t be swapped out due to story involvement, but even when slightly underleveled, the game isn’t too punishing.

There are also bonuses that can make an easy map even easier or help a weaker character stay afloat. There’s the option to eat before each battle, and the ingredients used will offer different benefits. Players wanting to increase character levels quickly can focus on experience bonuses, but if they’re looking for item drops, they can select an increase to that parameter. Anyone worried about battle performance can cook up a meal with a bonus to special attack charge rates or faster unique skill cooldowns, periodic automatic healing, less damage taken from enemies, or even increased damage from Zonai Devices.

The more expansive, main story battlegrounds in Age of Imprisonment also have individual camps spread out that offer even more optional bonuses. These bonuses range from battle-relevant, such as instantly filling attack gauges or reviving once after dying, to exploration-focused, including showing the location of treasure chests and hidden Koroks on the mini map.

To earn these temporary buffs, players exchange tickets, which are earned by performing specific tasks during the map. Tickets are kept between maps, so it isn’t a bad idea to hold onto them until a challenging fight or when intent on scouring the map for its Koroks and treasure chests. Both major story maps and the smaller side quest maps can be replayed if its area in Hyrule is under the player’s control, so nothing is missable and grinding for missing mission requirements is always an option.

Age of Imprisonment’s plethora of options helps elevate it as an enjoyable Warriors experience. On the other hand, it suffers from its notable roster absences, especially for Zelda fans, since it’s common to go to Warriors games not for their canon-compliant stories but for the opportunity to throw fan-favorite characters at floods of enemies. Knowing what to expect helps alleviate the disappointment, and the Warriors format works wonders at conveying Tears of the Kingdom’s Imprisoning War. Hyrule Warriors: Age of Imprisonment’s seriousness and polish help it overcome its shortcomings, making it an overall good time. And like with most Warriors games, a good time is usually good enough.

  • Graphics: 85
  • Sound: 85
  • Gameplay: 85
  • Control: 85
  • Story: 75
80
Overall Score
(not an average)

About our grading scale

Review by · March 2, 2026 · 9:00 am

If imitation is a form of flattery, Esoteric Ebb is to Disco Elysium what Lock, Stock, and Two Smoking Barrels was to Pulp Fiction. Simply put, Guy Ritchie’s directorial debut wouldn’t exist in its final form had Tarantino not carved such a strong stylistic claim on the film industry at the time, yet Ritchie managed to run with the inspiration without letting it overrule his own creativity—which is more than you can say about a lot of other movies that tried to do the same. Nevertheless, if you try to replicate a monumental work’s style too eagerly, the best recognition you can hope for rests at the tip of its shadow.

While I’ve seen the term “Disco-like” pop up lately to categorize games that mimic Disco Elysium’s presentation or generally choose the pen over the sword in their design, Esoteric Ebb is the first that I’ve seen openly market itself as such. Even if it hadn’t, it’s clear within minutes that this game is trying the hardest to be the most Disco disco-like. Internal monologue “Chimes” based on your character’s stat distributions? Check. A bunch of ideologically charged dialogue choices with a strong basis in our current political moment? Oh yeah. A psychological mess of a protagonist who bonds with an endearing sidekick? That goblin’s name is Snell, and he’s pretty swell.

At its best, Esoteric Ebb is a revelatory iteration on what made Disco Elysium work, applied to an intriguing Discworld-esque homebrewed DnD setting. At its worst, it overwhelms you with text while retreading its core inspiration’s structure and themes. Though let’s not forget that, as much of an artistic achievement as Disco Elysium was, it was also firmly rooted in the tradition of text-heavy, tabletop-inspired isometric CRPGs. Its spiritual indebtedness to Planescape: Torment in particular shows for anyone familiar with the genre’s history. Esoteric Ebb looks to connect the two classics in an undeniably clever, mostly successful way: taking the presentation format and inventive roleplaying of Disco Elysium and applying it back to the DnD-style adventures that paved the way for it.

Esoteric Ebb’s world is one where DnD 5th edition systems and conventions are playfully rationalized in the context of its events and laws as well as creature roles and relations. The delightfully imaginative worldbuilding thus explains the social customs that keep spells like “Charm Person” and “Speak with Dead” in check. Esoteric Ebb’s writing is most engaging and amusing when it’s dissertating about the metaphysics of the alignment system, has you conversing with a legal assistant who is a literal devil, or showing your Strength and Wisdom stats arguing about the lonely, sacrificial nature of chivalrous manhood versus the plea to just be an empathetic person.

The character creation screen shows the six D and D stats with extensive descriptions of how they influence your character's personality and tendencies.
Character creation does an excellent job detailing the kind of roleplaying experience you’re signing up for.

Character creation lets you choose your stat distribution across the standard six DnD stats. You are a cleric named Ragn, who somehow wakes up alive in a morgue after drowning in the river that runs through the city of Norvik. “Cleric” is your job title as a magically endowed official of Norvik’s fading Nationalist government, although you can start to internalize an aspirational character class through conversation. The circumstances of Ragn’s history, death, and apparent resurrection are a mystery, as is an exploded tea shop that he is responsible for investigating.

On top of that, the story also builds towards Norvik’s first-ever election! Politics is in the air, and radical change is (potentially) on the way. Expect your roleplaying experience (including Ragn’s ideological proclivities) to be heavily shaped by your initial stat distribution. This makes the game beg for experimentation with specific proficiencies and deficiencies across multiple playthroughs. I tried out two builds: one focused on Strength/Wisdom and another on Dexterity/Charisma, both of which felt like playing significantly different clerics plagued by their own internal turmoil.

The former build was torn between traditionalist values and revolutionary ideals. The latter was an obnoxious rogue-ish sociopath. Ragn doesn’t have the strongest identity on his own, especially early on, but that allows you to shape him into whatever flavor of adventurer you’re looking for. While he does have a fixed, personal backstory to uncover, the game locks many of these details behind skill checks, so you generally learn about the ones relevant to your build. For a more chaotically entertaining roleplaying experience, I recommend going all-in on a few stats while neglecting the others entirely. Failing checks is often as fun as succeeding on them.

Adding to the character building, completing certain questlines opens the opportunity to take on a Feat after reflecting on what took place. Here, at least two of your stats engage in a debate about what the ideological takeaway behind the quest could be. I saw one such debate revolving around the conflict between idealistic leftist activists and some young men disillusioned with all manner of authority, demonstrating the game’s interest in explicitly mirroring contemporary political issues. After entertaining the multiple perspectives, you must choose one to internalize—with each potential Feat also offering a different gameplay bonus.

The protagonist converses with a goblin leader, with several dialogue options to choose from.
All the DnD staples—from goblins to dwarves and elves—occupy an intriguing position in the game world’s geopolitics.

Like Disco, the ideologically infused dialogue successfully balances progressive leanings with doses of satirical irony and sincere empathy alike for different perspectives and the life experiences that shape them. My biggest gripe here is that it can feel overly derivative of Disco’s core narrative and thematic function, which occasionally pulls me out of appreciating the ways that the game successfully differentiates itself.

If Esoteric Ebb’s gameplay only revolved around walking through Norvik and navigating external and internal conversations through dialogue choices, it would be a tad tacky. Fortunately, this is not the case. Many of the game’s quests push you to dungeoneer through the area below Norvik, into an expansive ruin of the setting’s past. Exploring this City Below impressively captures the eventful, dramatic feel of tabletop DnD adventuring.

There are secrets to discover, puzzles to work through, and even combat encounters to conquer. It takes a while for the game to push you deep into these dungeons as stats (and equipment that boosts them) become essential to boost your odds for crucial dice rolls. When I felt confident enough to dive deep, I started appreciating Esoteric Ebb in a new light.

Ragn kneels in front of an altar in a church, with light spilling from a large window on the far wall.
Urth, the god and savior of humans, plays a significant and controversial role in the game world’s lore.

The way the game integrates combat is a highlight, if unfortunately underused. Each encounter is a curated piece of the larger story or worldbuilding. In these moments especially, the narration sucked me into the situation and effectively amped up the dramatic stakes. Choices on how to navigate the encounter are tied to whatever stats fit the situation—which you may or may not have invested in. Spells that you’ve memorized can offer increased survivability or create advantages on offense. Any companions with you also have turns that can shift the tide in combat, though I wish their actions also worked through dice rolls for more mechanical variability.

I enjoyed my time in the City Below so much that I wish more of the game leaned towards this sense of adventure over the dense, extensive discoursing that makes up a significantly larger portion of the overall playtime. I would love a sequel that spreads out the density of the NPC dialogues to provide a more eventful journey through this charming fantasy world. More companion interactivity. More locations to explore. More potential in the spell mechanics. This would help leverage what makes Esoteric Ebb unique and disperse what makes it redundant.

The game features over a million words of text by a single writer—and most of it is enjoyable and pleasantly reactive. That’s an incredible achievement. At the same time, it’s hard not to see the potential here for a more dynamic game and wish some of that Herculean effort went into seeing it through. Across all the quests and exploration I invested myself in, I amassed a huge stash of cool equipment and trinkets that I anticipated an opportunity to make use of, only for it never to come.

The player is equipping a barrel as a helmet, providing positive modifications to Strength and negative Wisdom.
They call me Bucket Head. Fear my clerical authority!

Disco Elysium’s gameplay was only as engaging as it was because of the quality of the writing. Esoteric Ebb’s sole writer/designer, Chrisoffer Bodegård, is clearly a captivating GM, but his brand of zany writing started to wear thin on me in the later portions of the game simply due to its sheer quantity. There’s no shame in not living up to the Best Writing that’s Appeared in a Videogame, but placing the same emphasis on reading with several of the same thematic concerns (and without the extra advantage of impeccable voice acting) is a gamble with some negative modifiers.

Despite my nitpicks, the writing supports the overall tone the game goes for quite well, as do the other stylistic elements handled by Bodegård’s collaborators. The distinct art style paints Norvik and the City Below with eye-catching color that could pop out of the pages of a comic book. The game space isn’t huge, yet what’s there is rich in detail. The character models look better than most isometric CRPGs, and the art that appears when you’re chatting with an NPC is always charming and made me want to get to know the diverse cast. What’s more, many small spaces and characters have unique songs as background, which keeps things consistently fresh for your eyes and ears.

I hope this review doesn’t sound overly critical because I am genuinely pleased with most of what Esoteric Ebb achieves. I just think the game could have been significantly improved, had it the confidence to shed its most conspicuous Disco-isms and dance to its own tune. Given everything that happened at ZA/UM and its creative core’s dissolution, we will likely never get a true successor to Disco Elysium. I am at peace with that. But if developers like Bodegård can iterate on its systemic expressiveness with the type of passion and intelligence that Esoteric Ebb manages, its legacy is in good hands.

  • Graphics: 90
  • Sound: 85
  • Gameplay: 80
  • Control: 80
  • Story: 85
83
Overall Score
(not an average)

About our grading scale

Review by · February 26, 2026 · 10:00 am

In Tales of Berseria, the story and the characters do almost all the lifting. It’s a good thing it’s so amazing, because there sure is a lot of weight on its shoulders, especially with this completely superfluous “Remaster.”

It has to overcome some of the most bland dungeons I’ve ever explored. They’re all somewhat gray corridors that have the most basic puzzles this side of, well, I honestly can’t think of many in other RPGs that are more pointless. They’re interminably long most of the time, too. Oh, and you’ll also spend a whole lot of time backtracking through areas for new quests because this is clearly a budget title on many fronts.

That might be okay if the combat was more engaging, but it’s really not, so the burden worsens. It’s a huge step down from Tales of Graces f, with a similar system for creating combos in the free run style introduced in later Tales games. However, it is entirely too reliant on RNG to keep combos going, and if you know what you’re doing, by playing as certain characters, even on Hard, every fight is a complete joke with basically no strategy. Seriously, just play as Velvet, farm for staggers, and keep hitting Break Soul and it’s over before the encounters really even start. For me, that’s pretty fun, and you can play as other characters, but Tales of Berseria‘s combat doesn’t reach the series’ highs.

The additional wrinkles, like using equipment to grab skills and character stat upgrades, or upgrading equipment, might be interesting if the game required any real engagement, But it doesn’t, and every time I spent five minutes in a menu, I regretted it because I remembered I didn’t need to care about my stats. The enemies were my playthings regardless.

A screenshot of Velvet spinning in combat aginast some green enemies in Tales of Berseria Remastered.
Swallow Dance! Swallow Dance!

Let’s be honest: you’ve already looked at the score below, so surely you’re thinking I have to get to something positive soon. Not yet. I like Motoi Sakuraba more than most people I know, but even for him, this is a pretty unmemorable OST, outside of the fabulous “Theme of Velvet.” The game isn’t much to look at either. Even outside of the gross outfit they throw Velvet in, with pretty thin justification, there’s not much to say about the graphics except that they’re fine and they’re anime. To be frank, this looks like a PS3 RPG through and through.

Yes, that comment even applies to Tales of Berseria Remastered, which is a generous term; therein lies the rub. “Port” is more like it. Sure, there are some nice additions in this version, like increased running speed and the ability to have unlimited fast travel a bit earlier. I guess I’m happy to have access to the Grade Shop to include some boosts that are normally reserved for NG+ runs, but in this game, what does it matter? It’s already so easy. And I suppose if you squint really hard, the game looks slightly better in this version.

But, other than a few minor additions and adjustments, Tales of Berseria Remastered is absolutely, 100% the same game I saw in a bargain bin for the PS4 for five bucks about six months ago that runs just fine on my PS5 (I even ran it alongside Remastered to confirm there’s little visual difference). I’m not one to complain about remasters, or even ports, but why does this even need to exist when other games I want to play in the series (looking at you, Tales of the Abyss) aren’t readily available on modern consoles? The answer, as always, is money. I get that, but even I have limits, and this “Remaster” pushed them multiple times during this second playthrough.

Ultimately, though, I landed on one simple thing: this game still rules, and it’s entirely because of the excellent story, characters, and voice acting. In fact, I might venture to say that this is close to the “platonic ideal” of a JRPG story for me. Sure, it doesn’t go anywhere amazing thematically, but the characters are fabulous, and most importantly, it’s not afraid to look some really dark things in the face and genuinely earn some of the late story beats typical of the genre. I cheered, I cried, and at least in terms of my experience, Tales of Berseria is working on a different narrative level than the rest of the series.

A screenshot of the cast on a boat wearing pirate outfits in Tales of Berseria Remastered.
I promise, at least for Velvet, this is a much better outfit than the original.

I’ll admit that I’m a sucker for a good revenge story, too, and this game both indulges in the natural pleasures of those stories but also looks at some of the consequences, too. The cast is amazing, and the delightfully weird witch Magilou almost takes the cake, but it’s really Velvet, that broken, enraged, tender woman who moves us through to the end. The voice acting helps a whole lot, too. I’m not sure anyone can shout a name with rage quite as well as Cristina Valenzuela.

Look, I know this is a pretty short review. If you want a more thorough one, go check out Alana Hagues’ lovely take on Tales of Berseria when it came out…less than a decade ago. It’s the same game, and I don’t disagree with anything she said there, so that’s why I gave it the same score. And that’s the problem. Did I still enjoy my time with Tales of Berseria Remastered? Oh yes. In spite of all its flaws, I was still moved to tears and goosebumps multiple times. I don’t even mind all the backtracking because I got to spend more time with the amazing cast. Put simply, the narrative and the characters still carry the load.

But I don’t know who the audience is supposed to be here. If you don’t own Tales of Berseria yet, it’s available in a very similar form on the PS4 and PC. I guess if you really want to play it on the go, you can grab it for the Switch, which is new, but it’s visually inferior to even the original PS4 version.

I guess I can hope that whatever money they make here goes toward finally bringing Tales of the Abyss my way. Assuming you have access to the original in any other format, I’d recommend you not spend yours on it, though.

  • Graphics: 70
  • Sound: 80
  • Gameplay: 75
  • Control: 100
  • Story: 95
87
Overall Score
(not an average)

About our grading scale

Review by · February 25, 2026 · 12:00 pm

Setting sail into new waters is the conceit behind the tenth Ys game and something it does with gusto, according to our own Sean Cabot’s excellent review. Now, however, a “definitive” edition has reached our shores in the form of Ys X: Proud Nordics. While a worthy purchase for those curious and those who’ve yet to try the vanilla version, does Ys X: Proud Nordics justify a double-dip for returning players? The waters are murky in that regard.

Set sometime after the events of the second Ys game, Ys X: Proud Nordics sees redheaded swordsman Adol Christin once more embarking into the great unknown, accompanied by his erstwhile partner Dogi the Wall Crusher and the researcher Doctor Flair. It isn’t long after arriving in the waters of Obelia Gulf that the boat they’re riding on is besieged by the Norman forces of the seafaring Balta Seaforce. That encounter leads to the trio’s momentary stranding in the port town of Carnac, where Adol not only encounters a mystical talking seashell but also becomes literally chained to the Norman Pirate Princess Karja.

When Carnac is attacked by an undying, monstrous army and the townspeople are kidnapped, Adol and Karja embark on an epic quest amidst tumultuous waters to protect the entire gulf from being swept into chaos. The truths they uncover about the region’s history hit closer to home than they could imagine, especially for the determined Karja.

Ys X: Proud Nordics Screenshot of Adol and Karja leaping into battle.
Karja and Adol embark on a memorable journey as Shield Brethren.

That’s pretty much the gist of Ys X: Nordics’ plot, and it’s carried over word-for-word to the Proud Nordics version. Adol and Karja rescue their allies and, in the process, obtain the necessary upgrade materials to strengthen their boat, the Sandras. Their crew sails the waters of Obelia Gulf, reclaiming occupied territory as they traverse through a combination of both naval and land battles. If one has played the game’s original version, there’s very little different here beyond some minor quality of life improvements to make combat flow better and boat travel easier.

It is the addition of the EX quest line involving the large and mysterious Oland Island that truly differentiates Proud Nordics. This island is a large region that allows you to test acquired mana abilities, fighting tough enemies as you travel the dungeons throughout to uncover the mysteries behind why the Normans were forced to leave their ancestral homeland in the ancient past. Adol and Karja meet up with Karja’s cousin Canute and his exasperated Shield Sister Astrid, with Canute coercing the two into taking part in a contest to see who can uncover more of the island’s mysteries. Of course, he has an ulterior motive, culminating in a challenging and multi-tiered final fight.

The EX quests open up about halfway through the game’s ten chapters, and I’d hardly call them “seamless” additions, given their length and how they often divert from the main plot line. This is especially apparent with the last EX quest that activates right before the main storyline’s final boss fight, causing you to hop over to Oland to run through a maze-like dungeon and fight the final boss of the EX quests before jumping back over to proceed with the game’s actual final boss and see the ending.

You get to put your mana abilities to the test with the EX quests, which can be fun and rewarding, but beyond some light lore and world-building, there isn’t too much actual story added into the mix. Canute and Astrid are interesting characters, but the game waits until the end of the EX quests to really delve into them, so they aren’t as memorable as they could have been.

Astrid and Canute introduce themselves to Karja and Adol in Ys X: Proud Nordics.
Astrid and Canute are the two new characters introduced in the EX questline.

Beyond having new dungeons to explore and bosses to fight on Oland, you can also participate in mana board racing and train up Adol and Karja through coliseum fights. A new mana ability, the Mana Hold, lets you telekinetically lift blocks or yank projectiles out of the air and hurl them in a different direction. To be honest, Mana Hold isn’t my favorite of the abilities Adol and Karja unlock, as Mana String and Mana Board will forever hold those spots, and Hold’s aiming could use some fine-tuning. Still, it’s another interesting way to tackle puzzles and exploration advancement.

Exploring the waters of Obelia Gulf leads to a slew of new discoveries, and I enjoyed uncovering islands to explore, freeing townsfolk to recruit to the ship, finding lost pikkards, and just sailing in general. The Sandras essentially becomes a floating town in and of itself as you go, and I liked getting the chance to raise affinity with its residents and uncover their personal quests, as that often meant I had the opportunity to once again set out and explore to my heart’s content.

The naval battles themselves weren’t terrible either, being less tedious than, say, those in Suikoden IV. As long as the ship is upgraded and retrofitted, they are manageable. The slow boat travel can get tedious, so I often relied on the helpful fast travel option to quickly return to places I’d uncovered once it was available.

The action RPG gameplay after reaching land and traversing dungeons is where Ys X truly shines, with Adol and Karja using mana abilities to quickly get to areas that’d otherwise prove inaccessible. The combo-based combat is both fast and fluid, relying on attacks you program into button shortcuts. You can control either character directly or have them work in tandem, with their joint attacks often having more oomph. It was fun seamlessly switching between the two different styles of play.

While I preferred Adol’s speedier approach to fighting, I found that Karja’s heftier axe and ice attacks were a boon at times. Ys combat is polished to a tee here, though boss battles often proved to be lessons in endurance rather than skill towards the game’s final portion. While I enjoyed the different combat styles of the various party members in other Ys titles, I think the streamlined combat here is a strong selling point, as it really gives the sense of Adol and Karja working as a team.

Adol and Karja are testing out their new mana hold ability in Ys X: Proud Nordics.
The Mana Hold ability is an interesting, albeit not flawless, new addition to Adol and Karja’s arsenal.

From a character stance, Karja is Ys X‘s driving force. Her personal journey of growth and development shapes the narrative, whereas Adol’s wide-eyed enthusiasm for adventuring helps place the player directly in the story. I liked most of the other characters too, and the Sandras’ crew all had their moments to shine, though Rafe, Ashley, and Ezer were probably the standouts given their stories and questlines.

I don’t think the Sandras crew might have as much staying power in my mind as, say, the party members from Ys IX: Monstrum Nox or Ys: Memories of Celceta, since they don’t often leave the ship or travel dungeons with you, but they’re well-written nonetheless. I do feel a bit bad for Dogi, though! He’s Adol’s most steadfast companion, and I adore him, given his narrative throughout the series, but even he tends to take a bit of a narrative backseat here. Sadly, that seems to be the lovable guy’s lot in many of the recent Ys titles.

From a story stance, I do think Ys is in an interesting place right now. At the moment, Falcom has two big-name series, with Ys on the action RPG side and The Legend of Heroes: Trails on the other. I adore both series for different reasons: Trails is a sprawling sci-fi/fantasy epic, while Ys is a more self-contained tale of discovery and adventure. Ys is like comfort food to me, and the series has a whole lot of heart and polished gameplay mechanics that make it fun to play.

Even I can tell they’re now trying to expand the narrative more, given Trails‘ success, and I’ve mixed feelings about it. On one hand, it’s certainly an interesting approach, and we get some great characters like Karja through it.  On the other hand, Ys is more about the thrill of adventure and overcoming challenge, meant to be enjoyed at any point in the series’ timeline without feeling beholden to what came before.

There are some interesting teasers going on in this game about possible future story points, including a secret hint you can uncover in the epilogue, but I know that the Ys series leaning more towards being like its cousin Trails has had mixed reception, so Ys is certainly at an interesting crossroads right now. I do wish that Ys got as much development budget as Trails does, though, as some of the visuals, like acquired loot graphics, look less visually appealing and almost “gacha”-esque.

Ys X: Proud Nordics Screenshot of Adol and Karja surfing over the water.
Mana board racing will always be a highlight of the game for me.

Speaking of visuals, Ys X: Proud Nordics is a good-looking game in many respects. There’s a lovely vibrancy to the graphics. I do think the terrains and enemy designs can have some degree of “sameness” to them, but character models and art are expressive and detailed.

The areas you travel on foot are cleverly designed to help you think and figure out how to best progress without being too frustrating. There were some pop-ups in the final dungeon areas, but I do know a Day One Patch is planned to fix many of those hiccups. The script localization is also really well done, with nary an error to be found; impressive given that this is a meaty script for Ys.

Of course, one can’t really talk about Ys without delving into its music. The soundtrack for Ys X definitely doesn’t disappoint, with several tracks designed to capture the sense of wonderment the game wants to convey and to get the blood roiling during frenetic combat.  Ys X: Proud Nordics even has additional music tracks, which only add to that sentiment, such as “Mighty Blizzard.”

The English voice acting is also relatively decent, with special kudos going to Karja’s actor, Cherami Leigh, in particular for some incredible deliveries. Adol and Dogi’s actors also do a fantastic job reprising their respective roles. Ys X does suffer from sporadic/partial voice acting at times, which is an interesting choice to be sure, as there are oftentimes long stretches of no voice work at all.

Ys X: Proud Nordics is an odd duck: though it’s most certainly the definitive edition of the tenth Ys game, it’s a tall order to get someone to pay full price for a game that could’ve easily been a cheaper DLC expansion, especially if they’ve already played Ys X: Nordics. I greatly enjoyed this game myself and was thoroughly entertained by this new installment of Adol the Red’s adventures, but I’m in the position of not having had a chance to try the original beforehand. I think any newcomers to Ys X should certainly add Proud Nordics to their collection, but those who’ve already crossed these waters might want to wait for a price reduction before doing so again.

  • Graphics: 88
  • Sound: 91
  • Gameplay: 90
  • Control: 89
  • Story: 89
90
Overall Score
(not an average)

About our grading scale

Review by · February 24, 2026 · 12:00 pm

The last thing I anticipated playing in the year 2026 was a brand-spanking-new Game Boy Color title. But that’s Infinity for ya!

The history behind this once-scrapped, now-revived GBC RPG is quite the saga, stretching all the way back to 1999 and making Infinity about as old as RPGFan itself. Finally, thanks to a recent successful Kickstarter campaign, Infinity exists as a physical cartridge to plug into your GBC (or GBA, whatever device is compatible from Nintendo). In due time, this 4MB cartridge will be ported to Steam and Nintendo Switch. Until then, Kickstarter backers are currently receiving their materials, and the general public has access to physical and digital editions of the GBC version via publisher Incube8 Games. But you may wonder: could such a game, on such a dated console, actually be worth playing? That’s what I’m here to answer.

Inspirations

Over the decades, the original dev team Affinix have not hidden the fact that Infinity was designed as a love letter to Japanese RPGs. After all, across Nintendo’s lineup of 8-bit platforms (NES, GB, GBC), the vast majority of RPGs on those platforms hail from Japan. Throughout my ten hours playing Infinity, here are some inspirations I noticed.

First and foremost, the tile-based backgrounds and character sprites immediately reminded me of Square’s four Game Boy RPGs: the Final Fantasy Legend trilogy (which are SaGa games) and Final Fantasy Adventure (which is actually a Mana game). These aren’t one-to-one, cookie- cutter clones. I think Infinity has a distinct visual style, and it’s not only due to the addition of color. Even with such a limited number of pixels on the screen, I was impressed at the visuals, which have their own style while hearkening back to some of the best Game Boy RPGs out there.

The game offers towns, dungeons, and a relatively small world map that isn’t fully traversable until the last quarter of the game to explore. In this regard, progression feels a lot like Final Fantasy or Dragon Quest. Visually, I do like the added touch of the world map appearing somewhat skewed, to add depth and perspective.

Infinity Screenshot showing the party on the world map, heading towards a castle.
Goin’ to the castle, and I’m gonna kill all the baddies.

The game’s mechanics contain a hodgepodge of classic RPG inspiration, but once again, the end result is something unique. Your party starts with one player and grows to as many as four. Combat is initiated via random encounter, but the player is actually in a mini-strategy RPG layout once it starts. Without drawing any grids on the screen, the devs laid out a hexagonal grid (years before Wild Arms 4 implemented a similar format). Menu navigation in combat, which can be a bit confusing, is generally laid out with the cardinal directions. Fans of Lufia and Breath of Fire should recognize this model. You have to memorize a lot of icons, as there is precious little on-screen text description for your selections (though the game includes a handy-dandy instruction manual with purchase). The learning curve was a tad steep for this player, but once I got the hang of the menu navigation, I really enjoyed battles. I also appreciated the option to use items to avoid random encounters, as well as the high flee success rate when I didn’t want to be overwhelmed. Keeping my mana at max for potential big boss fights was paramount.

As these battles are tactical in nature, fans of Shining Force and/or Fire Emblem may find themselves most drawn to these short-form tactical battles. Learning to maximize efficiency with certain character-unique skills is a real joy, though I wish there were more variety in this regard.

A Unique Touch

With those inspirations noted, let’s dig into aspects of Infinity for which I couldn’t find an obvious legacy parallel in the massive back catalog of JRPG-dom. Let’s start with the music.

Composer Eric Hache laid down early versions of this music for fans to listen to starting back in 2002. Materia Collective released an updated version of the music in 2016, even while the game remained unfinished. However, that OST appears to have been pulled in anticipation of the complete OST coming this year. There are notable differences between the music in those respective decades, but the key themes (title, world map, standard battle) have maintained their core melodies. The notable difference in the Infinity soundtrack’s evolution is the way it maximizes the Game Boy’s three-channel setup to create chiptunes. Utilizing oscillations to suggest larger chords than would otherwise be possible is a great technique, one that didn’t get nearly enough use throughout the ’90s. Hache nails down this technique in fast and slow songs alike. Hache also makes great use of the noise channel for percussion.

Infinity Screenshot where the party is engaged in an intense boss battle.
Boss battles are no joke. The intense music helps to raise your alertness!

Is there any analogous composer I could tie Hache’s work to? Honestly, not really. This music sounds plenty distinct from Square’s mainstays of the era (Uematsu, Ito, Shimomura, Kikuta). And it definitely doesn’t sound like Pokémon music! If anything, I notice some melodic work that reminds me a bit of Motoi Sakuraba’s work in later Shining Force titles, but that’s in a far more expansive soundscape than pure chiptunes.

To that end, I think Hache might have pulled off the greatest feat here, developing a chiptunes score that functions on a very real, four megabyte cartridge and a Game Boy Color, with techniques that rival what modern chiptune artists can do with a single device. I love this soundtrack’s style, and only wish there was more to love. Unfortunately, there just isn’t enough content in the game to justify an expansive three-hour Game Boy OST.

And that brings us to the story. I found this to be the most unique approach compared to Infinity‘s JRPG predecessors, and it’s also where I found the most frustration. At a high level, this game has an absorbing world. The lore (history and mythology), the larger plot, and the key events are fantastic. When the player learns of a certain weapon called the Geist Cannon, it’s actually a horrifying experience, complete with impressive still images that enhance the moment’s power. This early plot point made me realize just how dark the Infinity devs were willing to go.

What didn’t work, however, was the dialogue. Our protagonist, Connor, is an ultra-jaded former knight forced into an adventure he doesn’t want to take. Early in the game, the player learns why Connor has an axe to grind against his home kingdom of Selera. And, okay, you’re angry. I get it. But when your dialogue is just nonstop brooding and resentment, even toward well-meaning party members and NPCs, it gets old. I haven’t hated a protagonist this much in a long time. And even at the end of the game, after he’s achieved total redemption, I still don’t like Connor.

The other major characters are more bearable. The lycanthropic Victor is probably my favorite character, as his aggression starts to tone down to more acceptable banter with the rest of the party near the end of the game. Roland, Connor’s rival in the northern kingdom of Alutha, is every bit as bitter as Connor. And, again, for good reason. The game’s whole story is about the continual failures of humanity and the traps set by evil supernatural entities to accelerate extinction. The few forces for good, like the well-meaning and devout mage Elya, are well overshadowed by the antagonist forces led by Kraith—and, dare I say it, the antipathy of the rest of the playable characters.

Infinity Screenshot with dialogue "We must warn Alutha of the impending attack."
“But what if it’s already too late?” More inane arguments to come!

I don’t have any complaints about the plot’s pacing, though. While part of me would like some additional/optional content near endgame, I also found myself longing to see how the endgame scenario would play out. The presentation is a bit barebones; more key art throughout the final hour would have been welcome, though I also recognize space limitations. (Again, only four megabytes! That’s madness!)

An RPG For The Ages

Is Infinity the greatest game on the Game Boy Color platform? No. Can it compete with retro-style RPGs that have no actual space limitations? Absolutely. While I have my complaints and would have loved to take a stab at rewriting the dialogue so that the main characters weren’t so curmudgeony, I think Infinity is ultimately an enjoyable retro experience that we’re lucky to see launch decades after its first curtailed development cycle. The visuals are simple yet effective. The music and sound are a wonder to behold. Dungeon exploration and combat are fun, and only run the risk of monotony if the player chooses to take on heavy grinds.

If you pride yourself on having a library of great retro games, here’s a surprising old/new entry just for you! It’s not going to change your life, but it will make for an enjoyable 10-15-hour gaming experience!

  • Graphics: 80
  • Sound: 90
  • Gameplay: 90
  • Control: 80
  • Story: 70
83
Overall Score
(not an average)

About our grading scale

Review by · February 19, 2026 · 12:00 pm

“Souls-like” is a somewhat exhausting term. It gets thrown around a lot in a gaming landscape where titles are endlessly compared to Demon’s Souls and FromSoftware’s oeuvre since then. Regardless of whether you think Souls-like is a “real” genre, it’s helped lump the many games that flagrantly lift the aesthetics and design of FromSoftware’s history-shifting work (e.g. sci-fi Dark Souls, 2D Dark Souls, anime Dark Souls, Pinocchio Bloodborne) for fans with an unquenchable thirst for that winning formula of demanding mechanical precision and sparse, atmospheric storytelling.

I’ve played most of the Souls-likes listed above and appreciated the hard work that went into trying to bottle and riff off that FromSoftware magic. Still, I couldn’t get it out of my head that I was experiencing a mere imitation of something more real. I never thought a game starring a protagonist who looks like he could be the nephew of Sebastian from The Little Mermaid would be the first Souls-like that bravely crawls far enough out of FromSoft’s shell that it makes the label feel like a launching pad for creativity rather than a game design bible.

Indie studio Aggro Crab self-published Another Crab’s Treasure in 2024 following a lengthy development cycle. On one hand, it fits comfortably into the Souls-like label. As Kril the hermit crab, you explore semi-open levels, scouring for cleverly placed items and engaging in punishing combat with any fish or crustacean whose personal space you violate. On the other hand, the level design requires navigation and 3D platforming that sometimes feels as reminiscent of late-90s Rare as 2010s FromSoft. Holding the jump button to extend Kril’s waterborne movement by swimming is reminiscent of Kazooie flapping her wings to keep Banjo afloat. It’s an ambitious expansion of genre influences that feels impressively natural.

As someone who enjoys FromSoft’s moody aesthetics, I have to admit I was initially put off by Another Crab’s Treasure’s cartoonish visuals and punny writing. The storytelling is more straightforward here with established characters and dialogue that has some interest in explaining things to you. As I played past the initial hour, though, this superficial judgment faded away as the darker thematic richness that lurks in these ocean depths began to surface. Driving Kril’s journey is a surprisingly thoughtful story about the perils of environmental harm and capitalistic exploitation. And really, what’s more tragic: the hubris and downfall of Lord Gwyn and his empire, or the destruction human waste has wrought on our Earth’s beautiful, expansive oceans?  

Kril is hit back while fighting with an enemy crab in Another Crab's Treasure.
“Oh crab!”

To start things off, a literal loan shark seizes ownership of Kril’s shell and disrupts his peacefully solitary life on the ocean coast. After giving chase, he ends up on the seabed where things… don’t look so good. The first fellow crab he meets has a hollow look in its eyes and attacks Kril. Turns out this widespread hostility is due to the Gunk spreading throughout the sea, which appears to result from the excessive waste plaguing the ocean floor. Desperate times have also driven the remaining sane creatures towards power grabs and exploitation.

This should all be a reality check for Kril, who displays a privileged “out of sight, out of mind” social philosophy. All he wants is to get his shell back and return to his hermetic life away from this hopeless, depressing reality. He’s a relatable character, to say the least.

The world in Another Crab’s Treasure is built around the ways a society of crustaceans has adapted to all the trash and Gunk that now surrounds them. This fantastical yet alarmingly real premise manifests smoothly into the game’s own take on environmental storytelling and its iterations on Souls-like mechanics.

The creative level design delights with environments based on oceanic biomes made unnatural by all the litter that’s conveniently laid out as a platforming playground. As Kril is navigating these areas, you’ll be reminded of all the things you’ve thrown in the trash—from plastic toys to pizza boxes to electronics. Each main area is a distinct space with plenty of challenges and hidden items to discover. They all scratch that Souls itch while feeling fresh to navigate.

Smaller trash also has its purpose. As I said, Kril had his shell stolen, which makes our little misanthrope quite vulnerable. Fortunately, the ocean floors are littered with dozens of potential substitute “shells” that can be equipped as both Kril’s armor and shield. I’m talking tin cans, bottle caps, ink cartridges, tennis balls, and much more. It’s quite cute and disturbing at the same time, which sums up a lot of what Another Crab’s Treasure is doing aesthetically and thematically. Each shell comes with health determining its durability, weight that affects the speed of your dodge roll while wearing it, and one of 23 potential abilities. Oh, and style points, of course.

Kril explores an underwater canopy littered with garbage in Another Crab's Treasure.
One man’s trash is another crab’s shell.

Shell durability is an important way for the combat to focalize blocking and encourage experimentation while punishing pure turtling. I found the combat flows best when going toe-to-toe with enemies, blocking carefully while aggressively counterattacking whenever an opportunity presents itself. The game has a unique approach to parries where you must release block at the time of an enemy’s attack. It’s a tricky window to nail down after so many games have conditioned me to tap for a parry, but the difference is a smart fit for the rest of the design.

On the offensive end, Kril’s weapon of choice is a fork. It can be upgraded but it’s the only primary weapon you get. If that sounds boring, allow me to introduce you to the wonderful world of Umami. Seriously, Umami is the game’s term for magic and the skills that consume your Umami charges, and they scale with Kril’s MSG stat (you gotta love it). Shell abilities consume Umami, as do Adaptations. Adaptations are flashy moves you’ll learn that range from a sweeping, debilitating claw swing, a sea urchin sticky mine, and a bubble-blasting gun. You can also find and purchase Stowaways—equippable accessories that modify Kril’s stats or have other properties.

What I’ll give most Souls-likes over Another Crab’s Treasure is a level of mechanical polish achieved from faithful iteration on what FromSoft laid down. The first few hours of fighting in the game felt a bit undercooked for this reason, but the joy of combat picks up when you start earning Adaptations and progressing Kril’s skill trees.

By the back half of this 20-plus hour journey, your toolkit allows for enough mechanical expression that the game’s lack of build and weapon variety feels like less of an issue. With that said, not all of it is carefully balanced, so much of the game’s challenge can be mitigated at that point. There were a few climactic boss fights that went down rather unceremoniously.

Kril munches on a Heartkelp, Another Crab's Treasure's healing item.
Introducing Heartkelp! It works like Estus, but tastes like seaweed.

Still, this is coming from someone who’s played most modern FromSoft games more than once. The uninitiated might be relieved to hear that not only is Another Crab’s Treasure a less demanding Souls-like, but it even comes with a generous menu of accessibility options to make easing into the playstyle more… well, accessible. Players can pick and choose from these options, such as Extra Shell Durability, Lower Enemy Health, and Prevent Microplastic [read: souls] Loss on Death. Honestly, it’s a brilliant way for the designers to maintain the Souls-like convention of One Difficulty to Rule Them All while offering some flexibility for inexperienced players to find their bearings without getting discouraged.

Alongside the intended standard difficulty, Another Crab’s Treasure has technical hitches that led to some extra unintended difficulty. During my playthrough, I experienced issues with fall respawn points, enemy tethering, character/environmental collisions, and other awkward frustrations to which “git gud” logic does not apply. I understand this is a consequence of the ambitious design I’ve been praising from this relatively small team, but it did temporarily spoil the good fun I was having a few too many times. On top of that, there were occasional performance drops that were surprising to see on a modern console considering this is certainly not the most technically advanced game.

Regardless, Another Crab’s Treasure is the first Souls-like I’ve played that didn’t make me feel like I may as well just replay one of the real ones. Not because it’s a better game than any of FromSoft’s modern classics, but because it’s distinct enough not to feel derivative. It’s not the most mechanically satisfying Souls-like I’ve played, but neither is the original Dark Souls, and that remains my favorite due to its ambitious creativity and clarity of vision—something Another Crab’s Treasure shares with it. Personally, I would rather developers invested in this young genre take iterative risks than churn out more FromSoft B-sides.

It helps that Another Crab’s Treasure is also a Souls-like with a soul. The game will stick with me not only because of the finest moments from its levels or boss fights, but in how cleverly and effectively its environmental concerns are baked into the whole of the experience. By the end, I was looking into ways of reducing my waste output and microplastic exposure while reflecting on what individual human “goodness” looks like in a world ravaged by our collective impact. Not bad for a game about a crab.

  • Graphics: 80
  • Sound: 80
  • Gameplay: 85
  • Control: 75
  • Story: 85
84
Overall Score
(not an average)

About our grading scale

Review by · February 17, 2026 · 6:00 am

Paranormasight: The Seven Mysteries of Honjo graced our computer screens in 2023. Visual novel and mystery enthusiasts clamored for more after this surprise hit. Three years later, here’s Paranormasight: The Mermaid’s Curse, and I couldn’t be happier. Thank you, Square Enix, for continuing this universe. Can we have a third game in less than three years, please?

A video game series is largely defined by at least a few core characteristics continuing across entries. Here, expect more dark, grim occult; setting in the ’80s with blurry, washed-out colors to match (that’s a good thing) and alternating character perspectives across a central plot. Other factors, like the first-person camera, match the first game, but the aforementioned elements might be the focal point.

Like the first game, The Storyteller greets us with a charming introduction, this time regarding the legendary history of mermaids. Before you scoff, please know that Ariel doesn’t make a debut. Yuza’s the core protagonist and the first character you meet, but you wouldn’t know it after the first couple hours. We heavily take on the perspective of three other characters. No complaints, though, because this cast is incredible. A strong story often requires equally strong characters, and players can expect unique voices (not to be confused with voice acting), motives, and personalities that make for one enchanting crew.

Paranormasight: The Mermaid's Curse screenshot featuring a grumpy citizen judging another character's decision to go diving.
And on an island of all places!

Curses take center stage as we realize the sleepy, isolated life of ama divers in rural Japan isn’t as calm as the waters that surround Kameshima, our primary location in The Mermaid’s Curse. Yuza was the only survivor in a tragic accident at sea that sank three ships, which included his parents. With no memory of the incident or how he survived, Yuza set off to Kyushu—mainland Japan—until he returned years later to take care of his grandmother. In desperate search of a mermaid for reasons unknown to us, Yuza realizes that the citizens of Kameshima have no love for his late mother, as they blame her for the tragedy that occurred five years prior.

These initial mysteries—what happened five years ago and why Yuza’s mother is to blame—are but the beginning. We meet a slew of other characters—primary, secondary, and tertiary—who enhance the storytelling with vibrancy and depth not seen in most other games. We get to take on the perspective of a mysterious teenager who showed up out of nowhere a few months ago and doesn’t attend school, yet sits at home watching TV all day. Once again, we get to take the role of the Paranormal Affairs Bureau, this time as Yumeko Shiki, a housewife-turned-psychic whose stark, confident demeanor belies her modest background. Finally, we take on the role of American fantasy author Avi, whose bold, cartoonish approach to life serves as his primary weapon in his search for a mermaid.

What’s with the mermaid obsession, anyway? Well, get ready to don a school uniform because this might be a singular example of edutainment done right. That’s right, I said “edutainment.” In a positive way, even! The Mermaid’s Curse is an unreserved course in Japanese history, literature, and occult topics. The developers spared no effort in fluidly communicating volumes of text about the region, mermaids, and generals in the most accessible way possible. Not only is the writing and localization smooth as butter, but the infusion into this magical realistic world enhances the narrative. Throughout the entire game, I kept asking myself, “What if this were true?” and “What other parts of history might be explained by the supernatural?”

Paranormasight: The Mermaid's Curse's probably least interesting character making a simple observation.
Well then, untie them.

All that said, The Mermaid’s Curse clumps its more academic tendencies behind certain characters, which I have no problem with, but the pattern is uncanny. Although I personally loved each protagonist and their paths, some others may groan as they prepare for a veritable deluge of history lessons. I’ve always been a history buff and drawn to Asian folklore, so I’m clearly biased; my fawning over this aspect of The Mermaid’s Curse may not apply to you, dear reader.

Zooming out a bit, the pacing and flow throughout the 20-or-so-hour journey will leave your sails idle as the currents carry you along at a snail’s pace, yet I didn’t mind the slow burn whatsoever. Others may take issue with this, but I found the slow trickle of new information and mystique quite appealing. In large part, this is due to the likable cast and unique premise. Eventually, players experience some horror and bad endings, but even then, this takes some time.

The Mermaid’s Curse may initially appear as a horror game, but I’d certainly describe it as a mystery adventure game, first and foremost. This iteration of Paranormasight has fewer scares, but the outstanding music and unique art style keep the tension floating along. Like most mystery games, expect subtle foreshadowing out of the gate until the hints start hitting you in the face like flotsam before big reveals. Some puzzles exist, but nothing that gatekeeps players. At times, The Mermaid’s Curse will quiz you about history or the plot, so be prepared to go back into the history books the developers so generously plopped into the main menu.

Paranormasight: The Mermaid's Curse screenshot of a dude in a suit.
Almost as delightful as that suit you’re swimming in.

One last note is the linearity. Folks might imagine this is an open-ended game with choices that matter based on the timeline and variety of character perspectives we take, but don’t expect vastly diverging paths. Some choices exist, but they’re either binary choices with a “but thou must” option, or they lead to one short, quickly stunted path. Linear storytelling doesn’t matter much to me—hell, I may even prefer it because I think it’s easier for developers to craft a well-constructed narrative that way, but I know some players crave open-ended storytelling, so I want to temper expectations.

Paranormasight: The Mermaid’s Curse encourages me because it confidently plants a flag for the Paranormasight series, firmly establishing it as a quality new IP from Square Enix. Consistent in mechanics, storytelling, visuals, sound, music, and vibes, The Mermaid’s Curse is virtually guaranteed to elate fans of The Seven Mysteries of Honjo. If you’re a newcomer with even the slightest interest in Japanese history, the occult, or mysteries, you owe it to yourself to dive right into these murky depths.

  • Graphics: 80
  • Sound: 80
  • Gameplay: 70
  • Control: 100
  • Story: 90
88
Overall Score
(not an average)

About our grading scale

Review by · February 16, 2026 · 10:00 am

Ever wonder about the chaos a package carrier must be dealing with when you get the notification that your order will be late? Calamity Angels: Special Delivery takes a fantastically imaginative view on the obstacles a delivery person might encounter en route to your home. Sure, there are less far-fetched problems like thieves, extreme temperatures, and general navigation difficulty you might face in our world, but how about monsters, rickety bridges, poison? You’ll face all of these and more trying to do your job and deliver those packages on time in Calamity Angels. But is this a five-star effort, or does your order get lost in transit? 

Calamity Angels follows Yuri (whose gender is your choice), an up-and-coming team leader in the Delivery Guild, an organization devoted to making delivery runs. Yuri is put in charge of the Cupid Angels (yes, delivery teams in this world have bangin’ nicknames), though in the biz, they’re often referred to as the Calamity Angels, telling of their poor reputation. Yuri aspires to make the Angels the best team, so he has to get them back on track and climbing the ranks of the Guild. 

Despite the unique package delivery premise, Calamity Angels is largely your standard RPG. In combat, you’ll face the typical monsters, like vicious animals and blobs, in a traditional turn-based style. It’s mostly a typical anime-ish fantasy setting, and despite being delivery employees, your party members wouldn’t feel out of place in most other RPGs. I’ve also recently been playing the excellent Trails in the Sky 1st Chapter, and if Calamity Angels were based in that universe about a young Bracer trying to build their rep, it wouldn’t need many adjustments to work. The atmosphere is light, and the game goes to surprising lengths to demonstrate how unserious it is. 

Characters converse in Calamity Angels: Special Delivery.
The characters are nothing new, but they’re still fun.

Calamity Angels is in love with its characters above all, as in the story and combat, everything revolves around them. In the main story segments, your party members come off as pretty one-note with meager attempts at adding depth. They require no setup because you’ve encountered these characters before: You have the sleepy girl, the strong-headed woman, etc. As the main character, Yuri is the least interesting of the crew: a typical milquetoast leader and a young, aspiring competitor who wants to be the best but lacks confidence. All of these folks are still likable or intriguing, but rather shallow. 

Combat is where Calamity Angels is at its best. On its face and at its root, it’s a standard turn-based RPG. Pick moves one at a time for each party member, you know the drill. Aside from picking your actions, you must contend with an unexpected challenge: your own characters must be in the proper state of mind to get them to follow your direction. They all have a tension level, visible in their portraits, and when it’s higher, it’s more likely they’ll do what you want them to. If you tell them to perform an action they don’t feel like doing, there’s a chance they’ll instead do something else—or nothing at all. 

The positive side is that if your party member goes off-script, their action will also be more powerful. Somnia, your strongest fighter, would usually prefer to sleep than fight. Though it makes her unavailable, sleep can be good because it raises her tension and other stats so she’s ready to unleash when she wakes up. But sometimes, you don’t want her to sleep, and you have to find ways to get her motivated to fight. More than dictating actions, you’re managing the party’s personalities. 

Thus, the standard RPG combat gains some complexity through finding ways to turn your characters’ stubbornness to your advantage. As you get used to the complications of the six party members, you can learn to consistently steer them in a beneficial direction and even create satisfying combos. Though in this case, the combos don’t lead to uber-powerful attacks; rather, they’re just getting your characters to be more reliable. 

Where Calamity Angels gets weirdest is when unique skills pop up. These are extremely powerful limit break-esque actions that can completely swing the momentum in battle, though sometimes not in your favor. How to trigger them is a mystery you can guess at based on the characters’ personalities, but they often fire off unexpectedly. Some major battles wound up humorously anticlimactic because my characters immediately obliterated the enemies without me even pressing a button. Other times, it looked like I was about to lose a battle, but one of my party members surprised me by taking matters into their own hands, completely turning it around.   

A character sleeps during combat in Calamity Angels: Special Delivery.
No, I need you to attack now!

The lack of control might sound frustrating, but instead I was always entertained by the wacky directions battles would take. In Dragon Quest or Final Fantasyyou’d fight so many random battles that you’d develop muscle memory patterns for defeating groups of monsters. Occasionally, things go haywire and your entire squad gets turned into frogs or an enemy casts so many defensive spells on itself that you can’t damage it. In Calamity Angels, most battles feel like those weird ones; it’s refreshingly unpredictable and dynamic. Battles do more to provide your characters with depth than the main story does.  

However, while there are tactical considerations, the unique skills can be so powerful and random that it sometimes feels like you’re not doing anything. My other complaint is that Calamity Angels is overall too easy, as I lost just a single battle in my entire run, and there was almost no consequence from it. Not that being too easy made things boring, but being able to scale up the difficulty might have made tactical considerations more interesting. 

Less fascinating than combat is the board game-like exploration. It’s not terrible, but there’s nothing exciting about it either. Spin the spinner and move around the Mario Party-looking board and get whatever result you landed on, which could be a stat boost, a status effect, a battle, and so on. For your deliveries, the time limit is the main challenge. There were a couple of times I came close to the limit and had to make my moves more efficient. 

On the positive side, the board presents a different take on random battles in that I could see the battle space coming up, making it feel less random than it was. The most dynamic element of exploration is the imposing Omoikurai monsters roaming the map. These add tension at first, until you fight a few and discover they aren’t that tough. During these parts, I was mostly just wanting to get back to Calamity Angels‘ combat. 

A character sits on a game board in Calamity Angels: Special Delivery.
Just get me to the next fight, please.

Similarly, the story is just there. The main story reads like a standard if thin RPG narrative. Once you get through some early info dumps disguised as banter, your little delivery crew encounters a gang of thieves, the Murtamars, notorious for stealing packages. That’s funny on its own, but this concept is stretched out to be the entire plot. Calamity Angels confuses a surprising amount of convoluted lore for story.  

Also, as the weakest team in the Guild, I often felt like the Angels were in the subplot of someone else’s story: I do the dirty work so other characters can do the cool stuff. There’s a way to do this type of “sidekick” story well, but this ain’t it. The story is also generally reduced to fodder for characters to have something to quip about rather than building a compelling narrative. Again, it’s intentionally a lighter experience, but if that’s all it wants to be, it teases too much about building to something substantive while never actually doing so. 

Package delivery isn’t the most interesting concept to me, but it is a unique one that gets the imagination spinning about the potential stories of wacky or mysterious items being delivered to wacky or mysterious customers. Well, forget that. Calamity Angels doesn’t do much with its odd premise. Aside from main quests, which have plenty of dialogue to set the stage, most sidequests are practically empty as far as narrative. 

Character-based sidequests add some intrigue to some of the characters until they start opening storytelling doors to potential tangential follow-up missions, only never to be followed up on. It feels like a lot of missed opportunities. Again, I can understand wanting to keep the mood light, but stop teasing me then! 

A character daydreams in Calamity Angels: Special Delivery.
What is even going on right now?

The characters’ art style is over-the-top with more details in their outfits than a human can visually process, but their looks are evocative of their eccentric personalities. Unfortunately, the visual presence of Calamity Angels is overall limited, at least outside of battle. You’ll sense a pattern here, but combat is more of a visual treat, with the bombastically elaborate unique skills being the peak of visual experience in this game. Despite being released on other consoles too, the game feels made for the Switch’s handheld mode, which is how I played most of it.  

Music is enjoyable, though none of it stands out. The jaunty, jazzy tunes help remind how light this all is. The voice acting is also merely present. I preferred the Japanese acting over English as it was more energetic, with Selma, the timid paladin-tank who’s also terrified of bugs, being the standout. Also, every line of dialogue is voiced in the Japanese track, but not in English. In a turn-based, actionless game like Calamity Angels, the controls aren’t a major concern, but they were perfectly sharp anyway. 

Calamity Angels is most excited to direct you quickly to its unique combat, which the game supports by investing heavily in your fighters. When I say it’s experimental, I don’t mean it’s half-baked; in fact, it’s refined and confident in itself. 

There have been other games where your party members don’t do what you want them to, but I can’t recall any other case where that was this fun. Here, it’s so exciting that it feels like opening your eyes to something new and special. It’s frustrating to see how a little more here and there outside of combat could have built Calamity Angels up into a classic. You know the item was sold “as is,” but you get what you paid for. At least it delivers on its main draw.

  • Graphics: 78
  • Sound: 70
  • Gameplay: 88
  • Control: 80
  • Story: 65
80
Overall Score
(not an average)

About our grading scale

Review by · February 16, 2026 · 8:00 am

One of the most admirable qualities of smaller, independently developed games is their ability to remix and revitalize older game formulas for a modern audience. Such revisits to classic concepts are particularly notable when the previous standard bearers have shifted their focus. The Legend of Zelda series may be all-in on massive-scale, open-world design, but many fans (myself included) opine for the small-scale yet tighter, densely packed design found in older entries like Link’s Awakening. Under the Island seeks to meet this desire, delivering on a classic Zelda-style experience while adding a few twists of its own. The narrative and combat design falter a bit, but the detailed, vibrant world Slime King Games created here shines through the rough patches.

Under the Island follows teenage protagonist Nia as she moves to the remote Seashell Island with her scientist parents. Her folks are eager to study the island’s unique history, but Nia is upset about leaving her friends and old life behind. This initial premise grabbed me, as I could relate to Nia’s predicament; I, too, had to move around a lot as a kid and leave behind personal connections. Unfortunately, this promising narrative thread is dropped rather quickly. Once Nia starts wandering around the island and falls into a hidden dungeon beneath the ground with the local girl Avocado, the journey begins immediately.

A mysterious figure explains that the island will sink beneath the ocean unless the girls collect four gears that keep it afloat. Nia rushes off to secure each one (conveniently located behind various dungeons in each corner of the island) without much buildup or justification. I don’t mind being thrown into the thick of things, but the sense of urgency to save this island she resents, and a bunch of people she just met, feels unearned. It doesn’t help that most of the friends Nia makes along the way serve more as guideposts than they do characters. In addition to Avocado, Nia makes friends with a treasure hunter named Lemon, but most of their interactions are perfunctory exchanges that reveal the next objective. This is true of most of the island’s other inhabitants, too: dialogue is plentiful, but actual substance and characterization remain thin. There are some exceptions to this, like when I helped a young girl reunite her feuding father and uncle, but for the most part, the people of Seashell Island lack enough personality to carry the game’s copious dialogue. After seeing what other indie Zelda-likes achieved with little or no dialogue (Hyper Light Drifter and Tunic come to mind), I think Under the Island would’ve benefited from a less-is-more approach rather than inundating the player with inane dialogue exchanges.

Screenshot of Under the Island showing Nia acquiring an item.
Nia acquires her trusty…hockey stick?

Another sore point is Under the Island’s combat. Nia’s initial descent leads her to the resting place of the legendary weapon…only to find it missing, with a discarded hockey stick in its place. This stick functions as your sword and has a standard three-hit combo. I appreciate the tongue-in-cheek switchup, but where this approach falters is in damage output. Classic Zelda titles had simple combat systems that worked because enemies died in just a few hits; by contrast, Under the Island gives every enemy a prodigious healthbar, forcing you to hack away repeatedly with your hockey stick to defeat even the weakest foes. Some foes can be dispatched more easily with a little ingenuity. For example, there is a wolf that pops out of the ground and can be tricked into surfacing underneath a bomb, and a toxic slime-belching plant enemy that is difficult to approach, but vulnerable to a well-placed fireball. Most items other than the hockey stick are too slow to be effective in combat, but the hockey stick is too weak for most of the game to feel satisfying. Combat improves after a few weapon upgrades, but materials require significant exploration, and by the time I upgraded Nia’s weapon of choice enough to make it feel impactful, the game was nearly over. Compounding the spongey enemies is Nia’s lack of defensive options. There is no dodgeroll or shield to block attacks, so I ended up tanking a lot of damage in fights. Under the Island is never difficult enough that I was worried about dying, but the lack of defensive options contributes to the overall sloppy feeling of combat encounters.

Thankfully, Under the Island puts its best foot forward with the level design, exploration, and puzzle design. The world map consists of 40 distinct areas, each packed with details and secrets to uncover. Mainstays like bombable walls, cuttable grass revealing hidden holes, and pushable blocks are all here, but remixed and combined in ways I hadn’t seen before. Every screen had something cool to uncover, sometimes even multi-step mini-dungeons or challenges I had to return to later with new equipment. The map does a good job of distinguishing between areas and managing secrets and objectives, so I was able to get the most out of each moment spent exploring every nook and cranny of Seashell Island. Fast travel is available, but travel points are only accessible after clearing cleverly designed block pushing puzzles. Such attention to detail illustrates how Under the Island refuses to hand over conveniences without making you work for them.

Under the Island screenshot showing Nia roaming the desert area.
Each location is filled with secrets to uncover.

This creativity found in the world layout and environmental puzzles extends to the dungeons. Each one follows the typical Zelda format of locked doors and puzzles focused around a new item acquired in each dungeon, though not in the way you might expect. There are bombs, of course, and a flower that shoots fireballs much like the fire wand, but also some unconventional tools in Nia’s arsenal. A bag of animal treats offers a particularly clever innovation, tasking you with laying out a path of treats to lure beasts onto pressure plates or to careen into obstacles. Nia can also launch treats with her hockey stick to reach far-off locations. Later on, she acquires a bird companion tasked with retrieving hard-to-reach collectibles or activating otherwise inaccessible switches. These items are often used in conjunction with one another, and dungeons always build upon the last one, so no item becomes useless after a single dungeon (I’m looking at you, Twilight Princess).

The boss fights are particularly unique and clever, often because they aren’t really “fights” at all. One dungeon sees Nia managing the lighting for a stage production and warding away unruly fans from storming the stage, while another has her competing in a cooking competition show. The developers flexed their creative muscles with these boss concepts, and it pays off in a memorable encounter every time, particularly because these climaxes don’t rely on the lackluster combat mechanics.

Screenshot of Under the Island showing Nia fending off a crowd of fans storming the stage.
Not many games turn their boss encounters into literal stage plays.

The colorful aesthetics of Seashell Island offer a pleasant vibe, and the landscape is surprisingly varied. Nia travels from sandy beaches to snowy mountains, wet and overgrown swamps lead into arid deserts, all with new enemy designs and environmental details to match. The chibi character designs are cute with charming animations for both NPCs and enemies. The music is top-notch, with some tracks evoking classic Zelda (the town theme seems directly inspired by Wind Waker’s Outset Island theme), and others wholly unique. Each piece feels appropriate to the setting, and I was always excited to hear a new track once I arrived in a new location.

Under the Island falters in its combat and storytelling, but more than makes up for those shortcomings with engaging world design, clever puzzles, and creative boss encounters. Link’s boots are admittedly difficult to fill, but Under the Island has enough good ideas to set itself apart from its inspiration. The journey is a short one at only eight to ten hours, but I enjoyed my time with the game. It’s no Link’s Awakening, but in its best moments, it gets close enough to scratch the old-school Zelda itch.

  • Graphics: 80
  • Sound: 90
  • Gameplay: 80
  • Control: 70
  • Story: 60
75
Overall Score
(not an average)

About our grading scale

Review by · February 11, 2026 · 7:01 pm

In the pantheon of high fantasy strategy RPGs, few series have clung to their roots with as much persistence as the Disciples range. Ever since Disciples: Sacred Lands launched in 1999, Nevendaar has felt like a setting perpetually stuck in the final five minutes of an apocalypse. Disciples II: Dark Prophecy arguably remains the high-water mark, while later entries, including the recent Disciples: Liberation, have struggled to add much new to the blueprint. With Disciples: Domination, it’s clear that new developer Artefacts Studio isn’t looking to reinvent the wheel so much as they are intent on ensuring it keeps grinding over the same jagged, blood-soaked stones. It is, in many respects, a continuation of the series’ classic sensibilities, maintaining life in a character that hasn’t changed its wardrobe much over two decades.

As in the previous games, Disciples: Domination draws on the major factions and deities of Nevendaar and continues the story of Avyanna, the heroic Queen who fought and reunited (to some extent) the disparate peoples at the end of Liberation. Now, a new evil threatens her past victories, even as she grapples with disillusionment about leadership. If you didn’t play Liberation, the story loses some of its impact, as it assumes familiarity with earlier events and relies on that knowledge to give certain conversations more weight. Before long, though, you fall back into the familiar rhythm: meeting factions, recruiting troops, and venturing into maps filled with enemy armies, treasure, lore fragments, and collectible resources. One additional draw this time is the return of the Dwarves as a recruitable faction, and the plot writes them (and Avyanna’s first companion) into the story early, which is nice. The story spans a wide range of settings, and while the voice acting leans toward the hammy and the musical score isn’t memorable, the script is generally evocative, barring a few odd turns of phrase.

The environments in Disciples: Domination range from ruined medieval farmland to shattered mountain hellscapes. Fine details—like weathered structures and lingering magical effects—help draw you into each location. Still, the art direction can’t fully hide how familiar the setting or character design feels. The core factions—Dwarves, Elves, Undead, Demons, and Imperials—remain largely unchanged, and their tactics and playstyles unfold as you’d expect from similar fantasy games. Real-time exploration feels smooth, and the clean overview UI keeps your attention on scanning the environment for hidden treasures or spots to use companion abilities and unlock new routes.

Avyanna explores a dark, moody forest of Disciples: Domination on horseback and encounters a campsite.
Nothing beats going for a little picnic in the woods.

There are four distinct classes for Avyanna—Warmaster, Primordial Ruler, Holy Regent, or Witch Queen—as the main character. The choice feeds into a large, multi-tiered skill tree where you spend points across different disciplines within each build. Each class supports a distinct playstyle. The Warmaster, for example, can lean into tank-style abilities that strengthen Avyanna when she’s surrounded, or shift toward a more aggressive setup that inflicts Bleed damage. Despite the range of spells you can research and equip, progression often feels slow. Many upgrades offer only small percentage boosts or minor passive effects, which can feel underwhelming when you earn a single skill point per level. This sense of stagnation deepens because Avyanna and her chosen party only ever gain access to two core combat skills per build. Outside of spells, you don’t unlock many new active abilities.

To be fair, this is where the wider cast of Disciples: Domination fills the void. Avyanna’s passive Leadership stat enables her to build a squad of story companions, unique heroes, and standard mercenaries. She can balance her tactical approach through these choices. Elves tend towards strong ranged attacks mixed with nifty stealth tricks. The Imperial troops offer a good balance, with tank-like Paladins matching well with the healing and Divine-damage dealing Disciples and Priestesses.

Units fight in turn-based combat on small, hex-based maps. While the maps themselves aren’t large, they feature a wide range of positive and negative status effects, such as Regeneration buffs or Blinding effects that reduce accuracy. Each unit operates with different types of action points: some govern movement, while others combine to trigger limited abilities or Avyanna’s spells. Abilities vary in range, cooldown, and area of effect, and Disciples: Domination places strong emphasis on skills that reposition units around the battlefield.

Because units can’t pass through one another and the maps stay compact, positioning becomes crucial. Lining up effects, bottlenecking enemies, and delaying key actions often matter more than raw damage output. With each unit limited to a small set of tactical options, you can also start predicting their behavior in a chess-like manner. Support units tend to cluster around allies to buff them before moving into combat, while sneakier rogues rush in, strike, and then vanish into invisibility. Excess movement usually goes toward avoiding straight lines or adjacency to your own units. At first, this simplicity feels restrictive, but as new map effects, unit types, and abilities begin to overlap and interact, combat reveals itself as a real tactical puzzle.

Avyanna and three allies line up against an enemy faction on a Disciples: Domination battlemap, with movement ranges indicated.
Guess there’s no way we talk about this, then?

Character progression fuels the emphasis on preparation and roster management in Disciples: Domination. Levelling primarily increases basic stats and doesn’t unlock new abilities in most cases, although it does increase Avyanna’s ability to recruit stronger units or field larger numbers of weaker ones. Keeping pace with the difficulty curve can feel demanding, since each map offers only a limited number of encounters tied to specific level ranges. You can take on higher-level enemies for bonus experience, but more often the game becomes a search for the next suitably matched fight within what appears to be an open world.

Side quests and companion stories add variety, but you’ll often need to abandon them temporarily until your party grows strong enough. While level gating doesn’t inherently bother me, its implementation here sometimes undercuts the impact of individual story beats and lore drops. In doing so, it reinforces the game’s core identity: Disciples: Domination expects you to enjoy combat above all else, along with the constant cycle of planning, optimizing, and refining your unit strategies.

Yllian, the home base of Disciples: Domination where Avyanna recruits allies, upgrades her units and makes decisions on factions.
Home, sweet home!

Battlefield decisions exist alongside light strategizing in Avyanna’s hub world, the mythical castle of Yllian, your personal pocket-dimension hub that has grown into a sprawling seat of power by the events of Disciples: Domination. It’s a satisfying, if somewhat rigid, loop: you spend your hard-earned resources—Gold, Iron, Wood, and the rarer Essences—to upgrade buildings that unlock higher-tier units or items. The catch? You’re bound by the level of your castle, meaning your military ambitions are often held static by your progression through the main narrative. It’s less about creative layout and more about the strategic bottlenecking of power, forcing you to choose what to prioritize as resources permit.

You buy, upgrade, and manage equipment and Shards in Yllian. Avyanna can equip a wide range of weapons, armor, and items depending on her class. For example, the magic-focused Witch Queen only uses wand or staff-type weapons. You find gear out in the world or at Yllian’s marketplace, with rarity tiers making it easier to judge possible upgrades on current loadouts. Each item also offers an optional upgrade path that can unlock extra effects, such as adding Burn damage to attacks or healing Avyanna when she defeats an enemy. Unfortunately, item management often feels clumsy, and this system in particular would have benefited from a more thorough interface overhaul. Shards, magical crystals that all units can equip, further boost stats and abilities, increasing things like health or critical chance. As Yllian develops, you can merge these into stronger versions. Both systems draw from the same limited pool of resources, so progression becomes a constant exercise in prioritization—or a waiting game while real-time resource nodes slowly generate what you need.

Finally, you need to manage your standing with the various factions of Nevendaar. Previously, favour usually shifted through side quests and occasional character interactions, but Disciples: Domination introduces a new system: Grievances. These take the form of short narrative scenarios that play out in Avyanna’s animated throne room, where you choose from multiple responses. Some grievances appear naturally as the story progresses, while others unlock after meeting specific characters or triggering certain events. Each choice adjusts faction favour, with the option to spend resources to increase it further. In practice, faction benefits often felt less urgent than upgrading equipment or managing Shards, and I rarely prioritized them, but it’s a system with poignant links to Avyanna’s absent rulership and how she tries to address this.

Avyanna holds a grievance session with an Imperial envoy. There are different decisions she can make to effect faction response.
So, whatever I do, you’re happy, right?

The breadth of quests, companion combinations, and high-level gear in Disciples: Domination can easily keep you busy for dozens of hours, and the standard difficulty offers a genuine challenge. Without learning enemy weaknesses and mastering how to chain and maximize status effects, you may end up adjusting the generous difficulty options. By the late game, individual storylines begin to blur together, but there’s always something to do on any given map, whether it’s a roaming horde you ignored earlier, a mine you never cleared, or a grievance you still need to resolve. Secondary battle objectives, such as winning without companions or managing environmental hazards like rockfalls, keep progression feeling fresh. On a technical level, Disciples: Domination runs smoothly and never demands much from your system. I only encountered the occasional frustrating freeze (oddly, most often during Ice Storm maps). Although it’s not currently rated, the game feels well-suited to the Steam Deck thanks to its bite-sized encounters and modular structure. Gamepad support works well enough, too.

It’s difficult to fault Disciples: Domination for what it does well. The game delivers a tight tactical experience, supports a wide range of distinct factions, and offers plenty to explore. Its visuals are detailed, and the UI holds up well across long play sessions. Where the game stumbles, it does so in familiar ways: a disjointed narrative, forgettable voice acting, and the risk of loot overload. The game doesn’t push far beyond its predecessor, nor does it significantly shift expectations within the genre; its systems, story, and presentation all feel largely familiar. Like a friend whose dress sense hasn’t changed in twenty years, Disciples: Domination struggles to be truly relevant or fresh, but if you’re willing to dance to her older tunes, this is a queen who will happily conquer your doubts.

  • Graphics: 78
  • Sound: 70
  • Gameplay: 85
  • Control: 80
  • Story: 75
79
Overall Score
(not an average)

About our grading scale

Review by · February 11, 2026 · 1:00 pm

The horror-adventure genre has to be one of the hardest to create within. Unlike horror movies, which can be humongous cash cows thanks to low budgets and cheap thrills, horror-adventure games require a delicate balance between strong game design and immersion. Rely too heavily on gamification, and players get taken out of the experience just to find some hidden goodies. Instead of being terrified of walking down that hallway, players stare at the walls for secrets so that they can unlock all of the game art. That’s antithetical to the whole point of playing a scary game. REANIMAL straddles this line with expertise.

Travel through hell as a boy and a girl in search of lost friends. At least that’s what the press release says. REANIMAL says a lot with few words, though what it’s saying isn’t always clear. Instead of plot-delivery and characterization, we receive haunting, creepy vibes and tension. Being unclear for mystery’s sake isn’t necessarily art or clever storytelling. Thankfully, the incredible production value, combined with this opacity, leads us to believe that metaphors and analogies reign supreme. By the end, I urgently wanted to know what was going on and had a few theories. This is some good ol’ fashioned mind-chew.

What literally happens on the screen is that a boy and girl venture into an extremely gray, wartorn city in search of friends. In single- or two-player, the boy and girl navigate ruined buildings, eerie forests, and murky waters to find ways past gates, monsters, and an assortment of other obstacles. The words exchanged often relate to a desire to go home and an urgency for the way things were, but nothing is ever expressed concretely. Deranged humans and deformed animals chase the children down hallways, awkwardly arranged communal living spaces, and tunnels. The duo flit about to-and-fro until some unclear goal is achieved by the end of REANIMAL.

Faceless kids at a bus stop in Reanimal.
That big raccoon thing is late.

While only about four hours at a $40 price point, REANIMAL screams (or bleats) quality. Your physical time with the game may be brief—with promised DLC on the way—but REANIMAL will remain with you for at least a little while post-credits. The clincher with titles like these is that the developers need to give you just enough to want to theorize meaning and revisit the world during idle hours in bed or on the commute. If you’re looking for quantity for your dollar, steer clear, but if you want immersive storytelling that delivers a story like no other game, this may be what you need.

The beautiful quality of storytelling in video games is that players are thrust into the driver’s seat, and while we’re on rails in books or movies, we get to interact with the world in real-time as fast or as slow as we want in this medium, which transports us into worlds—no matter how linear. As the boy and girl, we navigate in third-person, pushing objects, pulling levers, and attaching wheels; REANIMAL does not revolutionize the adventure landscape whatsoever, and some of the gameplay tropes feel tired.

Despite these regurgitated mechanics, the physical world will set players at unease. In tandem with outstanding sound design in a mostly silent world, creepy tunes reminiscent of strings- and percussion-dependent horror movies, and chilling animations, this is a world where pressing forward has more oomph to it than other titles.

Getting ready to engage in cooperative trainplay in Reanimal.
Get ready to whimsically press up-and-down with a friend.

I’ve been playing games since the 80s, and you’d think by now I’d be done with holding a direction to run away from a giant enemy with a crumbling ceiling. You’d normally be right, but REANIMAL throws together such cinematic storytelling that these adrenaline-infused breaks from the quiet sprang me to life with urgency. Slithering flesh-folds and amorphous animals kept me from exhaustively exploring environments, and I instead took in the world with blurred periphery. The only real downside to navigating this world lies in fending off foes with a crowbar, which is an awkward and unsatisfying affair when sneaking or using the environment to survive may have served as creepier alternatives.

That’s all quibbling, though. I realized by REANIMAL‘s end that I could have more meticulously explored several environments, but in an uncharacteristic few hours of restraint, I pushed on with fleeting moments of exploration. The forced camera does most of the goodies-hiding, too. Pushing on the edges of the screen may reveal secrets hidden by the foreground, which feels like a cheap trick, but still offers that dopamine hit. Still, players may be better served taking the game in rapidly rather than slowing down to engage with the developer-driven hide-and-seek affair; save that for the second playthrough, because the unlocked concept art is some of the best I’ve seen in any game.

Running from an...that's an animal, right? in Reanimal.
Red is the universal sign for bad. Magenta means GTFO.

In an age when our culture admonishes developers for using AI to create art, REANIMAL displays just how important hand-crafted creation is. Again, after decades of playing video games, I’ve rarely cared about unlocking artwork; in truth, I’ve always found it to be a lazy way of giving something back to the player. Here, I found the artwork stunning and enjoyed seeing what inspired these macabre environments. Every time I found a flailing piece of parchment hanging from a wall, I almost wanted to close out to the main menu just to see what the artists had created. Other hidden collectibles include masks that the children can put on, though these add little to the drab, dark, and grim atmosphere.

Players will undoubtedly judge REANIMAL for its price versus gameplay hours, but the quality of storytelling, visuals, and sound design cannot be argued. The promise of DLC suggests to me that some degree of story clarity will be offered, which I’m not sure how I feel about, but I’m eager for more. Some will call this arthouse schlock, but I remain firm that there’s something here, and even if your last impressions of REANIMAL are slightly less enigmatic days and weeks later, the journey is worthwhile if you don’t fuss over the almighty Dollar.

  • Graphics: 90
  • Sound: 85
  • Gameplay: 70
  • Control: 75
  • Story: 80
80
Overall Score
(not an average)

About our grading scale

Review by · February 10, 2026 · 8:00 am

Have you ever seen Gus Van Sant’s Psycho?

In the late ’90s, director Gus Van Sant embarked on a cinematic experiment: He would remake Alfred Hitchcock’s 1960 horror masterpiece Psycho. However, unlike most remakes that reimagine the story, his Psycho would be a shot-for-shot copy, only in colour with new actors playing the main roles. A fascinating experiment, yes, but also a complete disaster. There was something missing from the remake, an undefinable quality that made Psycho so infinitely watchable and timeless.

The Psycho remake kept coming to mind while I was playing Yakuza Kiwami 3. Though it is technically a more polished and modern game than Yakuza 3, I walked away shocked at just how badly Ryu Ga Gotoku Studio fumbled this remake.

The Tojo Clan is in extreme crisis! The Dragon of Dojima, Kazuma Kiryu, has fully retired from the yakuza world to run an orphanage in Okinawa, the southernmost island of Japan. Unfortunately, a billion-yen land deal has put his orphanage in the middle of a Tojo civil war. Fighting to protect the children in his care, Kiryu must return to Kamurocho to save his orphanage and, in doing so, reshape the future of the Tojo Clan forever.

Mine dragging a thug across the pavement with his Dark Awakening moves in Yakuza Kiwami 3 & Dark Ties.
An accurate depiction of what RGG Studio did to Yakuza 3.

For the most part, Ryu Ga Gotoku Studio kept Yakuza 3‘s story intact. Kiryu is still everyone’s favourite Yakuza Dad, trying his best to raise the orphans in his care. And the Tojo Clan is, as ever, trying their best to pull him back into their yakuza bullshit.

In my Yakuza 3 Remastered review, I singled out the Morning Glory orphanage sections as easily my least favourite part of the game. Although the connection between Kiryu and his orphans was emotionally compelling, the gameplay and side stories featuring them were a massive grind. I wanted to head into Kamurocho and tiger drop some hoodlums, not spend a dozen hours raising children, growing potatoes, and training a low-poly puppy. In Kiwami 3, however, growing potatoes and hanging out with the kids (not to mention the puppy) are actually engaging and fun!

One of the smartest things RGG did was to recycle some of the best minigames from future titles and repackage them in ways that make sense for the story. For example, they reworked the Vocational School exams in Yakuza: Like a Dragon into a minigame where you help your kids with their homework. They also imported the delightful cooking minigame from Pirate Yakuza in Hawaii, so you can learn to make the favourite dishes of all the orphans. Plus, there are some new minigames, including a fun, if super challenging, racing/sewing game and a bug-catching game where you challenge your kids to see who can capture the most insects. On the whole, the revamped gameplay at the orphanage improved the Yakuza Dad sections immeasurably.

Kiryu and his family sit down for dinner.
The kids are alright.

Another way RGG significantly improved the overall experience is by removing the mind-numbing cabaret club minigame and replacing it with the much more entertaining management sim Bad Boy Dragon, where Kiryu becomes the chairman of an all-girls biker gang (because of course he does). While this minigame features some new gameplay, specifically riding motorcycles into battle, there really isn’t too much new overall for Yakuza fans. It’s fun and full of interesting characters, but it’s pretty typical Like a Dragon management sim fare.

Unfortunately, that is where most of the big improvements come to an end.

What should be the most obvious place to improve in a remake is the graphics. Though impressive for a PS3 game, Yakuza 3 suffered from many of the limitations of that console generation: low-resolution textures and low polygon counts for characters (especially NPCs’ faces). In Kiwami 3, they’ve rebuilt the game in the Dragon Engine, but something must have gone wrong, because this is easily the worst-looking modern Yakuza game ever made. There are still weird texture issues, blurry filters in the backgrounds, and bafflingly, low-poly NPC facial models, leaving half of the yakuza in Kamurocho looking like they’ve escaped from the PS3 era. Maybe these low-poly faces were an homage to Yakuza 3‘s visuals, but surely there are better ways to honour the source material.

Speaking of honouring, or more accurately dishonouring, what has come before, let’s talk about RGG Studio’s decision to recast some beloved characters with popular Japanese actors. The biggest controversy is recasting the character of Goh Hamazaki as Teruyuki Kagawa. For those who are unaware, Kagawa has admitted to repeated sexual assault and misconduct. And despite the justified outcry from Yakuza fans about the casting, RGG declined to recast the actor, as they did for Judgment when one of the actors was accused of using cocaine. I guess RGG feels that confirmed sexual assault isn’t nearly as serious a crime as alleged drug use.

To those who are understandably angry about a sexual predator being cast in Kiwami 3, let me put your mind at ease: He’s terrible in the role. Ignoring everything else (as difficult as that might be), the actor is horribly miscast. Goh Hamazaki in Yakuza 3 is a six-foot-four, violent brute of a man with a malevolent intelligence and ambition simmering just below the surface. Goh Hamazaki in Kiwami 3 is a five-foot-seven, generic, middle-aged yakuza slimeball who looks and acts more like a downtrodden salaryman than the patriarch of a prominent family in the Tojo Clan. At no point does he feel like a genuine threat to Kiryu, completely undercutting the character’s role in the story.

Hamazaki isn’t the only recast character in Kiwami 3. Beloved wingman Rikiya Shimabukuro and his gruff but affable boss Shigeru Nakahara also have new actors. Ryo Ishibashi takes the role of Nakahara, and while he doesn’t quite look the part of the over-the-hill, overweight, rural yakuza boss (in fact, he looks more like a super-fit yakuza dream daddy), he does a wonderful job in the part, imbuing the new Nakahara with as much heart as his predecessor.

Unfortunately, the same cannot be said for Sho Kasamatsu’s interpretation of Rikiya. Gone is our lovable doofus, only to be replaced with a bland performance that lacks Rikiya’s signature charm and warmth. Everyone who has played Yakuza 3 remembers Rikiya, but I guarantee you’ll forget Kiwami 3’s Rikiya five minutes after his last scene. I wish that RGG Studio would stop with the stunt casting and instead rely on the talented voice actors who have brought these roles to life over the last 20 years.

The updated combat in Yakuza Kiwami 3 is typical of modern games in the series. Unlike the single combat style in Yakuza 3, you now have Kiryu’s Dragon of Dojima style and a weapon-based Ryukyu Style that utilizes a sword and shield to block enemy attacks. Though arguably, the last thing we needed in this game was more blocking. In the original, every enemy, from boss to generic street tough, would block incessantly. Fighting them was such a chore that some called the game Blockuza 3. Thankfully, the remake somewhat mitigates this issue, though enemies still block a lot more than in other Dragon Engine games. It’s better, but if you end up with a group of five block-happy punks on the streets of Kamurocho, you might be in for a tedious fight.

Kiryu comforts a crying little girl at sunset in Yakuza Kiwami 3
An accurate depiction of how I felt playing this remake.

When RGG announced Kiwami 3, they also revealed the brand-new side game Dark Ties starring Yoshitaka Mine, easily one of the most compelling characters in Yakuza history. With his unmatched level of threat, malice, and complexity, it only made sense to give him his own DLC-style game, just like Majima got with the Majima Saga in Yakuza Kiwami 2.

Yoshitaka Mine is in crisis. During a drunken bender in the Champion District, Mine happens to stumble upon a yakuza gang war where he watches several Tojo foot soldiers sacrifice themselves to save the Tojo chairman, Daigo Dojima. Inspired by this sight, Mine sets out to join the Tojo Clan and discover if there is more to life than just earning money. But how? By allying himself with a low-level Tojo grunt and sex offender, Tsuyoshi Kanda. Together, they start to build the Nishikiyama Family into one of the most powerful factions in the Tojo Clan, making countless enemies along the way. The choices he makes and the allies he chooses will reshape his future forever.

Right from the start, Dark Ties instantly put me off by having one of the protagonists be an unapologetic rapist. In fact, Kanda’s very first scene involves him attempting to rape a random woman in an alleyway. Mine stops him, not to save the woman, but to bribe Kanda into letting him into the Nishikiyama Family. And as the game progresses, so does the friendship between Mine and Kanda. He genuinely becomes Kanda’s friend and brother, forming close bonds of affection and loyalty that are tested (and obviously broken) on their way to the events of Kiwami 3. He is the Majima to Mine’s Kiryu; you can even sing karaoke with him. But there is one big difference: Kanda is, and I realize I keep repeating this, a violent rapist!

This leads me into Dark Ties’ big management sim, where you set about to rehabilitate a rapist’s image. As Mine, you go out and perform good deeds to boost Kanda’s standing in Kamurocho, eventually raising him to be seen as a paragon of virtue. The second I realized I would spend the majority of my playtime doing public relations work for a sex offender, I stopped playing for a few days. I eventually finished it out of a sense of obligation, but this entire scenario made me feel angry and disgusted. Who at RGG Studio thought that a management minigame where you rehabilitate a rapist’s image would be an engaging and fun activity in 2026? It would have been a spectacularly bad idea at any point in time, but especially now for obvious reasons. Rehabilitating a rapist’s image so he can gain a position of power? No unintentional parallels there, I’m sure.

The Kanda Damage Control menu in Dark Ties.
“Damage Control” is what I hope RGG has to do after people play this gaiden.

I suppose the underlying intent of Dark Ties is to make you feel criminally complicit with the yakuza in a way that the main games never have. Kiryu and his friends tend to be yakuza paragons of virtue, while in Dark Ties, you are with the grunts who are in it for money, power, and to inflict as much pain on others as possible. And yes, there can be something fun about playing as the bad guy and engaging in fictional violence, racketeering, and gang warfare. But being complicit in rape? In a game that has already cast a sex offender in a leading role? I left Dark Ties feeling disgusted with the game, with what has been revealed about the character of Mine, and most of all, with RGG Studio.

Yakuza Kiwami 3 and Dark Ties left me deeply concerned about the future direction of the Like a Dragon franchise. Since the very first time I played Yakuza Kiwami, this series held a special place in my heart. But if there is one thing that Kiwami 3 lacks, it’s heart. If you’re craving some modern Yakuza action, play any of the recent Dragon Engine brawlers. But if you really want to play Yakuza 3, my suggestion is to go play Yakuza 3 and leave Yakuza Kiwami 3 alone.

Oh, and remember when I mentioned Psycho off the top? One of the only things Gus Van Sant did right was not mess with one of the most iconic endings in cinema history.

RGG Studio should have taken notes.

  • Graphics: 75
  • Sound: 75
  • Gameplay: 60
  • Control: 75
  • Story: 20
59
Overall Score
(not an average)

About our grading scale

Review by · February 7, 2026 · 12:00 pm

Nearly a year ago, when Nintendo announced the impending release of the Nintendo Switch 2, one of the big announcements was the arrival of GameCube titles to the Nintendo Classics online service. Eagle-eyed RPG enthusiasts may have noticed that during the trailer, a handful of boxarts were shown for upcoming titles, including Fire Emblem: Path of Radiance. This was a big deal for Fire Emblem series fans and RPG aficionados alike; up until now, Path of Radiance had not been re-released in any form, and commands notoriously high prices on the secondary market.

As a lifelong fan of the series in general, and a huge fan of Path of Radiance in particular, I was ecstatic for the game to be available to so many new players and jumped at the chance to review what I consider to be a high watermark for the Fire Emblem series.

Path of Radiance is set in a new continent called Tellius, populated by two major races: the Beorc (humans) and Laguz (shapeshifters who can transform between human and beast forms). The game follows the story of Ike, a young man who belongs to a mercenary troop led by his father, Greil. The Greil Mercenaries reside in the countryside of the nation of Crimea, doing odd jobs for local villages and magistrates. The early game consists of simple jobs, clearing bandits and fending off pirates, where Ike (and the player) learns the basics of combat and mercenary work.

Things take a dark turn when the neighboring kingdom of Daein invades. Daein is ruled by the ruthless, warmongering King Ashnard, who believes in strength and, above all, advocates for Beorc supremacy over Laguz. This hatred of Laguz is what (supposedly) drove Daein to invade, as Crimea’s King Ramon allied with the Beast Laguz nation of Gallia. The Greil Mercenaries end up caught in the middle after they stumble upon the secret Crimean Princess Elincia in her flight from Daein’s armies. Greil decides to safeguard the princess, and his company agrees to escort her behind enemy lines to refuge in Gallia.

Fans of previous Fire Emblem titles will notice that this plot differs significantly from other games in the series. Typically, the main characters are members of the nobility, not common mercenaries forced into extraordinary circumstances. This shift in perspective helps differentiate Path of Radiance and provides a strong foundation for the narrative and characters. Ike is not your typical protagonist; he is blunt, straightforward, and unaccustomed to the stuffy rituals and concealed motives of the ruling class.

His company is staffed by a ragtag group of orphans, former knights, and outsiders joined by circumstance and mutual respect. This found family vibe is in stark contrast to the chivalry and duty that normally dictate character motivations in the series; many scenes show characters disagreeing on how to proceed or even certain characters leaving the company altogether based on decisions made by the majority. 

Screenshot of Fire Emblem: Path of Radiance of a conversation between Soren and Ike
Soren’s frank, calculated assessments often bare harsh truths.

This shift in focus gives each of the various characters more time in the spotlight, and as a result, each member of Ike’s growing company feels more fully realized than characters in prior games. Path of Radiance introduces some of the franchise’s most memorable characters, from Ike’s sardonic and calculating staff officer Soren to his dutiful yet firm-handed mentor Titania. While one or two traits like this used to define a character entirely in prior Fire Emblem games, this cast is given ample opportunity to showcase depth and complexity, such as the way Titania plays a surrogate mother role to Ike and his sister Mist, or how Soren’s loyalty to Ike clashes with his own cold cynicism.

Characters have room to grow, and Ike’s responsibility to his company leads to more chances to illustrate character development. The Greil Mercenaries’ journey sees them travel across Tellius to the powerful Begnion Empire, and eventually take the fight into Daein. Ike seeks out characters like Marcia, a former Pegasus Knight of Begnion, and Jill, a Wyvern Rider from Daein, and explores their feelings on returning home under adverse circumstances.

These conversations flesh out the world and the characters, making Tellius the most well-realized setting the series would see until Three Houses’ Fodlan. The fact that it manages to do this while maintaining the linear chapter structure and tight pacing of a classic Fire Emblem title (no laborious, repetitive Garreg Mach school tasks found here) illustrates that brevity is the soul of wit. Path of Radiance’s writing is economical yet purposeful, with not a line of dialogue wasted nor a plot detail introduced without payoff. 

Mechanically, the game is a return to form, reintroducing classic staples to the series and introducing some innovations of its own to the Fire Emblem formula. Chief among these reintroductions is the return of the skill system seen in Genealogy of the Holy War and Thracia 776 that was sorely missing from the Game Boy Advance titles. Each character can equip skills carrying point values roughly in line with their relative power, with a cap of 25 points.

Some skills, such as Canto or Shove, allow modifications to a character’s movement potential, allowing for hit-and-run tactics or to manipulate the positions of allies or foes. Others, like Wrath or Vantage, give additional critical hit chance or can turn the tables in battle by letting the unit attack first when engaged by the enemy.

Some characters join with skills already equipped, and some skills can be taught through scrolls looted as treasure or dropped by enemies on certain maps. These skills bring a lot of variety to your units and allow for significant customization and potential strategies with your army. Such variety is what makes the game so replayable, and I find that every time I revisit the game, I’m able to employ new strategies and skill combinations to take characters in novel and interesting directions. 

Screenshot of Fire Emblem: Path of Radiance showing the Base menu screen
The base is a convenient place to prepare for battle and nurture support between units.

Contributing to this additional complexity are the map designs and the bonus experience system. Maps take influence from the varied win conditions of Blazing Blade and Sacred Stones, offering alternatives to simply defeating a boss or seizing a throne, such as defense, escort, and escape missions. Most chapters have additional objectives (safeguarding allied units, leaving certain enemies alive, or completing the chapter in a certain number of turns) that, upon completion, grant bonus experience at the conclusion of a chapter. This bonus experience can be spent on your units at the base, allowing additional freedom in how you train or raise your units.

Having multiple, oftentimes competing, objectives ensures each map challenges your wits, and the late game maps often employ gimmicks (a bridge full of siege weapons that crumbles beneath your feet, a mountainous ascent where the enemy rains boulders down atop you, etc.) to keep even an experienced player on their toes. The game’s difficulty never approaches insurmountable, even on the hardest difficulty, but the varied objectives and clever design elements keep each chapter engaging throughout the 30-hour journey. 

The base I mentioned above is probably the most impactful innovation Path of Radiance brings to the franchise. In previous entries, chapters proceeded linearly with little respite. You’d have a chance to resupply during the preparation phase before the next battle, but that was it. Any shopping or support conversations between units had to take place on the battlefield. Path of Radiance introduced the base between chapters, giving the player room to breathe and prepare, and giving characters a bit of downtime between conflicts.

Instead of support conversations taking place in the heat of battle (and wasting precious turns), they are accessed through the base, where it makes much more sense for characters to be pouring their hearts out to one another or delving into their backstories. There is an additional Info tab, which offers hints about the upcoming chapter or unique base conversations with characters or NPCs specific to your progress in the narrative. Oftentimes, these conversations reward you with items or even recruitable characters, so it pays off to view them.

Furthermore, you eventually unlock the ability to forge specialized weapons with custom parameters. You can only forge one weapon per base visit, and they are quite expensive, but forged weapons are a handy way to give a favored unit a boost in combat.

While I’ve mostly been heaping well-earned praise upon the game, Path of Radiance is not without its flaws. Intelligent Systems previously set a high aesthetic standard, as past titles were visually spectacular games on their respective platforms. Even the most casual Fire Emblem fan has seen clips of the impressive sprite animations from Blazing Blade. Path of Radiance, on the other hand, has a lackluster visual presentation. The character designs and 2D portraits (contributed by veteran SNK character artist Senri Kita) are some of the best in the series, but the 3D models for characters, maps, and animations leave a lot to be desired.

Textures are muddy, on-field character models are blocky and simple, and the transition to 3D in the battle scenes is rough. In fact, the battle scenes are so interminably slow and unimpressive that I tend to turn them off and stick with the snappier on-field animations, which aren’t flashy but get the job done. Some newly introduced mechanics disappoint, like the Biorhythm system. The idea sounds good on paper, featuring fluctuating character moods influenced by fatigue from repeated deployments affecting battle performance. In practice, the actual impact is negligible ( measly +/- 5 to avoid and hit), and you can safely ignore it entirely.

Screenshot of Path of Radiance showing characters on the map during a battle.
The on-field battle animations are serviceable, but pale in comparison to the 2D spritework of past titles.


Despite these minor flaws, revisiting Fire Emblem: Path of Radiance on Switch 2 made me fall in love with it all over again. As a longtime fan of the series, I think Ike’s journey from humble mercenary to leader of the Crimean Liberation Army strikes the perfect balance between compelling narrative and engaging mechanics. Each member of the cast is incredibly memorable, and the game establishes the world of Tellius perfectly, setting the stage for the world-shattering climax in Radiant Dawn. If you enjoy the Fire Emblem series, or just strategy RPGs in general, you owe it to yourself to play Path of Radiance.

  • Graphics: 80
  • Sound: 90
  • Gameplay: 100
  • Control: 90
  • Story: 100
95
Overall Score
(not an average)

About our grading scale

Review by · February 6, 2026 · 9:00 am

Edmund McMillen became a name synonymous with indie developers “making it” after he met overwhelming success with Super Meat Boy, originally a Flash game in 2008. Then along came The Binding of Isaac, which McMillen couldn’t seem to get away from for a time due to its popularity. Aside from outstanding game design and unique premises, he might be most known for his brand of humor, which is starkly irreverent and profane in as intelligent a way as possible. Mewgenics is no exception.

You are a cat hoarder. In the game, I mean. You meet a nice, crazy scientist who insists on experimenting on cats. He hooks you up with a house whose squalor serves as a glorified breeding ground for a criminally irresponsible number of cats. In addition to the mad scientist, you meet a few other loons who are just as depraved and offensive.

I find Mewgenics‘ writing and characters to be an edgier version of South Park with a similar attempt at knocking people off their high horses. Not everyone’s going to like the writing or commentary here, though I enjoy the poking and prodding at the most sanctimonious among us. This doesn’t matter, though, because like most roguelikes, the story takes a backseat to raw gameplay.

An NPC sharing a bit of gossip in Mewgenics.
That’s us. He means us.

At its core, Mewgenics is a strategy RPG with roguelite elements. Four kitties will head into the wild to battle McMillen’s nightmare-fuel armed with a small set of special abilities. You get a move action, a basic attack action, and mana-dependent skills to scratch, claw, punch, headbutt, and laser whatever comes your way. Then, move in an isometric view on square tiles, interact with the environment to accrue money or equipment, and take turns with pustules (i.e., enemies).

Each of Mewgenics‘ kitties have five equipment slots that increase stats, offer new abilities, interact with a whole assortment of effects throughout the game, and sometimes produce unusual and unclear effects. Fun! The short battles, encountered in a highly predictable fashion on a clearly laid out trail, offer money, food, and equipment upon victory.

Between battles, players may find a treasure chest with a random item and encounter a random event thrust upon one of the party members. Each event requires a skill test in one of the stats, and the potential for winning is clearly marked with shades of green or red, right alongside the character’s stat sheet. After reaching the map’s boss, players can continue on to one or two more maps to meet the finale of that run or return home early to secure goods.

A character dying on the field doesn’t wipe them from the game, though. They accrue an injury, which is almost always a blow to a random stat. If the corpse is hit too many times on the field, the kitty will actually die and disappear from the party. This may not be the worst outcome, because that means more level-ups for the other party members. Unlike most RPGs, every battle in Mewgenics results in a guaranteed level-up for one of the kitties, typically keeping each one at around the same level. When a party member dies, that means more levels for the others.

Level up screen in Mewgenics.
Let the rogueliting begin!

After a run, prepare to embrace birth defects and disfiguring injuries as you squint at sheet after sheet of stats and try to decide who gets donated to one of the creeps begging for cats and who gets to stay to fight whatever monstrosities lurk in the depths of a junk yard, desert, graveyard, and so on. Cats who’ve completed a run get a retirement crown and can’t go back into the field. This means every run in Mewgenics starts with a fresh new set of cats, so don’t get too attached.

Worry not, these cats will likely be stronger than the last, because breeding happens at the end of most days, and that means passing stats and abilities along to the children. Maybe. In order to increase the likelihood of this occurring and to help players grind stats to tackle new challenges, furniture can be bought for your hovel that increases the house’s stats.

McMillen and his co-developer, Tyler Glaiel, have mastered the art of steadily introducing new side quests, challenges, and locations. This is critically important because, as fun and involved as the stats and abilities are in Mewgenics, the game can feel repetitive at around the fifteen-hour mark. Make no mistake, Mewgenics is a grind. A fun grind, but definitely a grind. What has kept me going is finding whatever bizarre new monster the developers have around the corner and what unique game effects a revealed area may thrust upon me.

The most grueling part of Mewgenics is the return home. Having to manage my cats is a bummer. Some folks who are a little more carefree may find this to be an easier, more joyful responsibility, but if you’re like me and compulsively min-max in games like this, you’re going to have a bad time. At first, picking who lives and who dies is fun, but meticulously trying to craft the strongest kittens quickly feels like a chore.

Isometric SRPG boss battle goodness in Mewgenics.
I’d suggest not staring at this thing too long.

On the other hand, sending a new set of cats into the field and deciding what character class to give them is always exciting. Having to decide what items to take with them and what abilities they might unlock is a bit of a dopamine hit. The game can be “broken” with the right level-ups, but even then, death is only a critical misstep away on the field. I’ve had my fair share of nailbiters, but even in the most dire circumstances with over forty hours of gameplay, I have yet to party wipe.

Speaking of wiping, there’s a lot of poop in Mewgenics, but if you’re a Binding of Isaac fan, that’s just good news. Visually, McMillen certainly has a style. The Frankensteinian monsters are rarely direct ports from Isaac, but the resemblance is uncanny. What’s shocking to me is just how many new monsters the team came up with, as I already thought Isaac had a substantial amount of imaginative foes.

Musically, expect simple, sometimes creepy tunes for routine battles and gallivanting around. The standouts in Mewgenics are the boss themes, which are lyrically outstanding, such as with the lounge singer describing the boss and their lives. As impressive as these songs are, the repetition sets in at a certain point, as well. 

Unfortunately, the controls are not to the level they need to be, though pointing and clicking almost always works as intended. In more than a few situations, the game shifted my cursor to a new square, causing me to misstep on the field. I’m not sure where the hiccup is here, but in a game that requires precision and careful planning, one square to the left might be a cat-astrophe.

Mewgenics is best enjoyed as a marathon, not a sprint. Due to the sheer volume of content—with no clear end in sight aside from “collect all the achievements” and unlock all the stuff—Mewgenics can feel overwhelming right out of the gate. Despite how incredible the game design, balance, and mechanics are, the lack of any real story makes getting attached to a team or battle impossible. This is a “wow, that’s so weird and cool” sort of game that you move on from every once in a while until you want to hop back in so that it all feels fresh and new.

Make no mistake: I love this game, and I’m almost definitely going to 100% it, but there’s no telling when that’s going to happen.

  • Graphics: 79
  • Sound: 79
  • Gameplay: 80
  • Control: 75
  • Story: 75
79
Overall Score
(not an average)

About our grading scale

Review by · February 5, 2026 · 9:00 am

There is no shortage of Earthbound-inspired games that seek to grab the attention of nostalgia-filled RPG fans. This only escalated with the release of Undertale in 2015, which is now so horrifyingly long ago that it apparently qualifies as retro itself. Console gamers have long been deprived of a key title in this movement, Jimmy and the Pulsating Mass, first released on PC in 2018. Now, Jimmy and the Pulsating Mass is free from its desktop slumber, and a whole new class has the opportunity to wander its colourful lands. 

Jimmy and the Pulsating Mass takes place in the dreamworld of an eight-year-old boy, which provides an apt framing for the game’s visual presentation. This is a world brought to us in full 16-bit glory, which sits well next to beloved classics of the 90s. The game begins as Jimmy wakes up in his mother Helga’s lap, and soon we’re racing home, encountering Jimmy’s extended family on the way.

We meet Andrew, Jimmy’s scientifically-minded father. Soon, we find Lars, Jimmy’s bearded bum of an uncle. We also have our first meeting with Buck, who is the archetypal mean older brother, dressed in black, with an attitude to match. This initial journey is striking in that it drops you immediately into the comfortingly familiarity of a grassy glade, but soon we are crossing cloud bridges, signalling that we aren’t in anything like the waking world. The walk ends in a recognisable house, which primes us for the cadences of this experience, where the everyday is constantly subverted by the strange directions that Jimmy’s mind takes us. 

Jimmy exploring the world of dreams in Jimmy and the Pulsating Mass.
Jimmy’s travels start pleasantly.

At its heart, Jimmy and the Pulsating Mass styles itself as a golden-era JRPG, complete with traditional, turn-based combat and all that entails. It’s your standard fight, magic, items affair, except that the “magic” abilities have thematically appropriate names, such as “Mothering” for Helga and “Nerd Bash” for Buck. Jimmy also requires that you stay alert at all times, as enemies display “tells,” which indicate that you better guard yourself quickly, or Jimmy and his family will suffer. Your foes are static images, completing the retro feel. 

Early on, we have to battle something sticky and icky that lurks within Buck’s room, and it is here that Jimmy and The Pulsating Mass introduces us to the reason Jimmy’s abilities are labeled as “Imagination.” Jimmy is an empathetic little boy, and by experiencing the world from the viewpoint of the creatures he defeats, he can shape himself into their form. On this occasion, that’s a “Revolting Blob.”

On the field, you can change instantaneously into any of these. You can still transform during combat, albeit at the cost of a cooldown period if you want to change again. Each form has a specific set of abilities, such as the Blob poisoning opponents with toxic sludge, or solidifying itself to raise its defence.

Jimmy and the Pulsating Mass starts small, with the initial objective of gathering honey from a beehive. The creatures you encounter are cute at first: fun designs that would not be out of place in a children’s cartoon. Things soon take a dark turn, though, and we find ourselves battling disturbing monstrosities that evoke as much sympathy as fear. It’s the first sign that not all is well in this dream kingdom, a feeling that only increases as the game proceeds. 

Jimmy using his empathy to imagine what it would be like to be a gross blob in Jimmy and the Pulsating Mass.
He learns how to adopt cool (and sometimes disgusting) new forms.

From here, the world of Jimmy and the Pulsating Mass expands exponentially, with each transition feeling natural despite the potentially jarring difference in settings. Along with Homeflower, you also visit medieval castles, blood-soaked marshes, a world made out of maths and equations, and futuristic cityscapes. None of it is ever as simple as it appears here, though. There is always a twist or some unique spin to the locale linked directly to how Jimmy interprets the world. 

The scope of this project is even more impressive when you consider that the entire thing (barring a few coding assists) is the work of one person, Kasey Ozymy, using RPGMaker. It almost beggars belief that such an ambitious project as Jimmy and the Pulsating Mass could be created with barely any help, when large studios would employ dozens of people for similar projects. Jack-of-all-trades is underselling it somewhat. While it must be a difficult approach to take, it resulted in the execution of Ozymy’s creative vision in a more coherent way than could otherwise have been possible. 

I must be clear, though; the gameplay is pretty brutal. This is no entry-level title. On the standard difficulty, Jimmy and the Pulsating Mass expects you to pay attention at all points, looking for enemy weaknesses and optimal strategies. You must change Jimmy’s form at just the right moment, hopefully not locking yourself into a downward spiral through one wrong decision—a frequent occurrence if you’re not careful. 

The high encounter rate matches this difficulty, in an equally old-school way. I’m no stranger to either, having started my own JRPG journey in the 90s, but even I found it grueling on occasion. This sort of decision is more tolerable in a short game, but Jimmy and the Pulsating Mass easily clears 30 hours, maybe more if you’re taking your time. The variety in the enemy types helps, but the balance is a bit off in my opinion. Additionally, new equipment, healing, and recovery items are often prohibitively expensive, so you cannot rely on frequent upgrades to help you out. 

Luckily, Ozymy includes the option of an easy difficulty mode, which doubles experience, lowers enemy stats, and, most importantly, lowers the encounter rate. There’s still a challenge here, and fights remain frequent, but this might be a more tolerable way of playing for some, offering a tighter, less drawn-out playthrough that can be beneficial. 

This is important, as Ozmy’s narrative is ambitious, with an interesting throughline up to the finale. The childish imagery belies a darker subtext, and we are aware at every moment that the events of the plot are informed by Jimmy’s own experiences. It is an open-ended story that does not give every answer, and this only serves to strengthen its impact. There are some rare but powerful moments when the game steps outside of its established style and format for dramatic impact. 

These are the thoughts of a child, though, and I don’t want to imply that Jimmy and the Pulsating Mass is unremittingly grim or serious. There is a lot of joy to be found in the places Jimmy visits and in the people he meets. The Petty Thugs, consisting of characters like Dee Dee and Johnny Knives, and led by the irrepressible Punch Tanaka, provide comic relief, acting as both antagonists and occasional aids to Jimmy.

The Princesses in Everchip are named Honeysuckle and Rasberry, as you might expect, but also Stinkweed, as you might not. Of course, there is also the ever-present influence of the Pulsating Mass itself, a villainous figure taking many forms, all explicitly hostile to Jimmy. However, even the Mass is not treated completely dourly, its many appearances often leveraged for humour as much as threat. 

Jimmy next to a disturbing mouth mound, near a giant skull in Jimmy and the Pulsating Mass.
Jimmy will go to some dark places before it’s all done.

The true heart of the game resides in the depictions of Jimmy’s family. The choice to make Jimmy’s family members form the majority of the playable characters in the game is well-made and serves to emphasise the personal nature of the story, as we explore how Jimmy views his kindred. This includes serious analysis of Buck’s casual disregard for Jimmy, which masks his true feelings. It also includes finding out the hilarious truth behind Helga and Andrew’s “Adult Fun Time.” 

An exceptional soundtrack supports Jimmy and the Pulsating Mass‘ framework. The sound has a 16-bit chip tune aesthetic, but Ozymy uses modern technology to subvert this, with occasional use of vocal samples and other effects that would have been more difficult to achieve on original technology. The end result is an adventurous ensemble with great variety, supporting Jimmy’s hopeful moments with upbeat tunes, but also delivering melancholic themes with equal skill.

Moments where synthetic notes simulate the lyrics of songs are orchestrated impeccably, especially the tracks “I Won’t Come Back,” which has more meaning than is immediately obvious, and “Jonathan Bear’s Theme.” Some pieces that accompany the most disconcerting areas are actively oppressive and difficult to listen to, in a way that is entirely deliberate. 

Jimmy and the Pulsating Mass‘ release onto consoles allows new players access to Jimmy’s dream, which I would recommend most do, with the caveat that this is not for everyone. Those who like the sub-genre will have a blast, but others may find some aspects of the gameplay offputting, so keep that in mind before getting yourself tucked into this nocturnal novelty. Existing fans are promised the most complete version of the game available to date. Either way, you’re unlikely to find a more distinctive digital journey this year. 

  • Graphics: 80
  • Sound: 88
  • Gameplay: 76
  • Control: 78
  • Story: 85
80
Overall Score
(not an average)

About our grading scale

Review by · February 4, 2026 · 9:00 am

Nioh is my favorite Soulslike series of all time. Few games have ever rewarded mastery the way the series’ previous entries did, and even now, I struggle to think of another action RPG that offers the same sense of control once everything clicks. So, going into Nioh 3, my expectations were personal. This is a series I know inside and out. For the most part, Nioh 3 manages to move the series forward, yet its scope often trips over itself.

The most immediate change is structural. Nioh 3 shifts away from strictly mission-based stages and toward an open-world framework, though “open world” is something of a misnomer. Instead, the game is best described as a collection of linear zones stitched together through shortcuts, side objectives, and optional encounters. This approach strikes an interesting balance; it preserves the tight level design the series is known for while allowing more freedom in how players approach each region.

Supporting this is the new exploration-based map system, where completing activities gradually reveals more points of interest within a region. The more you engage with the space, the more it opens up. It’s a subtle incentive loop, and one that feels well-suited to Nioh’s combat-first design. Exploration never overwhelms the core experience, but it meaningfully complements it.

With that said, this checklist-style open world will not appeal to everyone. While the system does a good job of surfacing content, the activities themselves grow repetitive over time. After completing the game twice, once solo and once in co-op, I quickly grew tired of repeating the exact same objectives across each region. The world never quite breathes as a whole, as each region feels like a collection of side quests rather than a sprawling landscape. At times, I questioned whether an open world was necessary, and I expect this will be a divisive point among the community.

Nioh 3 protagonist samurai standing on a cliff looking out at the open world
Somewhere, a boss is watching.

Combat, thankfully, remains the foundation everything else is built on. Weapons feel excellent across the board, with smooth gameplay and satisfying impact. Nioh 3 retains the series’ trademark speed, but it also feels slightly more deliberate, especially in how enemies pressure positioning and timing. When the systems align, the flow is familiar and deeply rewarding.

Unfortunately, not every addition lands cleanly. Burst Breaks, a new skill that allows you to repel powerful attacks, rarely feels as impactful as it should. In theory, it’s meant to be a rewarding defensive option, but in practice, it often fails to deliver meaningful ki (stamina) damage or consistent stagger windows. When compared to the visceral feedback of perfect Ki Pulses or well-timed dodges, Burst Breaks feel underpowered and oddly unsatisfying. This becomes particularly noticeable in the later areas. 

The new split between Samurai and Ninja is another design choice that will likely divide players. Certain weapons from the previous games are now exclusive to Ninja, and Ninja gameplay does not use a stance system at all. This gives each path a strong identity, yet it also limits flexibility in ways the series previously celebrated. The Ninja playstyle can be extremely effective thanks to bonuses for back attacks, but the loss of stances removes a layer of expression that longtime fans may miss, depending on their preferred weapon. 

Personally, I found myself primarily playing as Ninja, even though my go-to weapon from the previous games is now locked to Samurai. Nioh 3’s level design just feels more fluid on Ninja, and I quickly grew accustomed to its skillset. 

Nioh 3 ice zone with a menacing red crucible in the distance
Curiosity leads straight into the crucible.

Co-op is one of Nioh 3’s strongest features. Being able to drop into another world and play through the vast majority of missions with another player is an incredible experience, and it fundamentally changes how the game can be approached. Coordinated play opens up new options, and certain builds clearly shine in an online setting. It’s a shame that technical issues hold this back from being truly seamless. Network instability crops up more often than it should, sometimes requiring a full restart to resolve. It’s rarely game-breaking, but frequent enough to be frustrating.

Of course, not all encounters are suited for co-op. Human bosses, in particular, are satisfying when you face them alone, but become trivial with another player. The game is aware of this and syncs your stats down according to the region; however, it’s still not enough to account for the imbalance. If you want the full Nioh 3 experience, I recommend trying both modes. I enjoyed both my solo and co-op playthrough equally, for different reasons.

Visually, Nioh 3 is an improvement over its predecessors, though not a dramatic one. Character models and environments are more detailed, and the overall presentation is greatly improved, but visual issues remain. The frame rate, in particular, is a serious problem in some regions. Combined with inconsistent platforming and environmental hazards, this leads to one of the game’s more persistent pitfalls: terrain that’s often more dangerous than the fights themselves. For example, it’s often unclear whether water is deep or shallow, and I even ran into a few bugs where I clipped through solid ground.

Enemy variety is another weak point. While familiar foes return with new behaviors, there aren’t enough truly fresh encounters to sustain the game’s length. In fact, I noticed more recycled bosses from the first two games than new ones, including almost all bosses in the open world. The repetitive music makes it even more noticeable, much of it fading into the background rather than elevating key moments. It’s functional, but forgettable; I could only remember a single track from the entire game.

Nioh has never been known for its story, and Nioh 3 gives you one that’s hard to follow and even harder to care about. You play as a sort of time traveler, sent to different eras for reasons that never quite become clear. Plot threads are thinly sketched, character motivations are murky, and events happen with no real cohesion. I found the story mostly something to endure between combat encounters. Truthfully, if I weren’t trying to follow along for this review, I would have skipped the cutscenes entirely.

Nioh 3 protagonist sneak attacking two human enemies on ninja
Initiative is half the fight.

I expect the menus and systems will remain a debated aspect of the game. Most of the core systems from Nioh 1 and 2 return, with Nioh 3 building on top of that framework. For example, both Samurai and Ninja use a Sphere Grid-style upgrade system (first introduced in Nioh 2) for learning new skills. Longtime fans will likely enjoy digging through these menus, while others may find the structure overly convoluted. Builds are still present and viable, but they feel less fluid overall, an issue that will probably matter more to theorycrafters than to casual players.

Despite all of this, Nioh 3 is still a stellar action RPG. When it works, it works because the core design is strong. Combat is smooth, and both Samurai and Ninja feel satisfying to master, with moment-to-moment gameplay that retains the series’ unmistakable identity. Even with its flaws, it offers an experience few games in the genre can replicate.

Nioh 3 may not be the peak of the series, but it remains a strong title that understands what makes Nioh special. For fans, it’s an experience worth diving into. For newcomers, it’s a deeply rewarding introduction. And for me, it’s another reminder of why this series still stands above most Soulslikes chasing the same crown.

  • Graphics: 78
  • Sound: 75
  • Gameplay: 99
  • Control: 86
  • Story: 65
81
Overall Score
(not an average)

About our grading scale

Review by · February 2, 2026 · 10:00 am

Sometimes I think I played a different game when people talk about the original Dragon Quest VII. What do you mean it’s too long? You want fewer islands? Okay, sure, I could do with things going a little faster in the beginning, but that’s part of the beauty of Dragon Quest VII—it takes its time.

It delights in the small moments where you help the fallen leader of a town, where you protect a child from a Slime, where you discover yet another piece that lets you (literally) put the puzzle together. It’s still pure in its storytelling without shying away from darkness. Put simply, in the words of my friend Mike Sollosi, it’s the most Dragon Quest game, both thematically and in hours of content, and that’s why I love it so much. 

Needless to say, I don’t think Dragon Quest VII needed to be fixed, or even Reimagined. And when I heard Square Enix was cutting islands, the very best part of Dragon Quest VII? Oh no. I want more, not less. Even with the promise of new additions, I was trepidatious that Dragon Quest VII Reimagined might just lose all the, well, imagination.

Luckily, it turned out even better than I imagined. Not only is this my favorite version of Dragon Quest VII, but it’s also one of the best in the series. 

So, let’s get one thing out of the way: the islands. For those unfamiliar, Dragon Quest VII has a unique structure. You spend most of your time traveling back in time to restore islands to the current world that you previously believed only had one, and help each island’s people fix their problems, which range from a town where a monster won’t leave a priest’s old home to another where all humans have become animals. Eventually, you return to the present, with the island restored in the current timeline that you can then explore again.

A screenshot of three characters standing over a shining stone in Dragon Quest VII Reimagined.
Ohhh shiny!

The overarching story takes time to come into focus, but even when it does, it doesn’t overshadow the small, intricate tales on the islands. This really is a game about helping people, about the importance and ramifications of the small things we can do for others.

So, cutting even a few of the islands in Dragon Quest VII Reimagined feels antithetical to the whole point. Granted, four once-required islands are now optional, and you bet your bottom dollar I did them as soon as they were available. Three others are cut entirely (along with some other content, like the casino). But, if I’m being honest, I didn’t miss anything.

There are still almost 20 islands, and the game’s spirit is still here. I’m still helping people, and it still takes up the bulk of the run time. Giving me the option to restore almost every island, but making the game take about 55 hours to clear instead of 80 on the 3DS and 100 or so on the PSX original is a fair trade in my view, but if they added those three islands as DLC, I’d be there faster than you can say Yuji Horii.

In terms of other storytelling changes, they’re mostly for the better. There’s less backtracking in general, and a couple of island vignettes got a few small adjustments to tighten up the story or give you more options. There aren’t many additions, though a favorite character does indeed rejoin you very late in an extended sequence that almost feels like another island. It feels tacked on and like fan service, but luckily I’m a fan so I don’t mind so much. Honestly, this version of Dragon Quest VII is much more true to the previous versions than the recently-released Dragon Quest I & II HD Remake; it still feels like you’re playing the same game.

Do I wish Square Enix had given us the whole package? Maybe a little. Still, everything else the developers have done here more than makes up for it. Especially the combat and the vocation system.

On the mechanics’ surface, things look pretty similar, and I won’t go too in-depth because Scott already did in his excellent preview. To be clear, this is still Dragon Quest through and through. It’s turn-based, and Dragon Quest VII’s vocation system still allows you to be a Pirate or a Dancer while you build up points to unlock more abilities. 

A screenshot of Maribel casting a spell against multiple enemies in Dragon Quest VII Reimagined.
Druids are still a must-have.

But the adjustments here are key. First, the Moonlighting system allows you to equip two vocations at a time. This is especially nice when you’re trying to level a new vocation and don’t want to feel underpowered. More important is the second adjustment: new “Let Loose” abilities that build up throughout the fight, similar to “Pep-Up” from Dragon Quest XI. Each vocation has a unique one, and I found myself combining a more powerful vocation with another simply for its particularly useful Let Loose attack. 

All this, combined with choosing moves as they come up instead of just at the beginning of each shared turn, makes this easily the best Dragon Quest combat system, requiring choice and strategy at every turn. The only major flaw is that even on the hardest difficulty on every setting, Reimagined is a total joke if you know what you’re doing, because yes, Hero and Champion still rule the day.

I don’t mind so much, though. Figuring out the right combinations and firing moves in the right order has never been more fun in this series, and that’s saying something almost 40 years in. Plus, there are some real challenges hanging out in the post-game, and that was enough to sate my need for punishment.

You know where I have absolutely no criticisms? The look. If nothing else, it’s a lesson in “art design is more important than big flashy graphics.” From start to finish, Dragon Quest VII Reimagined is a marvel to behold, combining dioramas in each town and vista, where you can adjust the camera as you search every nook and cranny for that next Mini Medal, with doll-inspired character models that look straight out of a pop-up story book. 

This isn’t the first time a game has used dioramas, since Fantasian did it a few years ago, but this looks so much better than that. Add in the always-fantastic monster designs of Akira Toriyama, plus the ability to see character animations in battle, and we’ve got something special here. Sure, the doll-like look mitigates some of the melancholy tone from the original, but it’s no contest for me—this is the way I want Dragon Quest to look.

That even extends to the sound design, which is saying something considering the usually mediocre Sugiyama compositions. But something about the darker mood of the game matches his tone, and it’s brought to life beautifully, similarly to the recent Remasters, with re-recordings of the Tokyo Symphonic Suite versions. The voice acting is also fantastic, combining the British flavors we’ve come to know and love in Dragon Quest with the varied accents and wonderful localization. Simply, Dragon Quest VII Reimagined is a treat to listen to.

A screenshot of a man with blond hair and his eyes closed with his head down in Dragon quest vii reimagined
Did they make Kiefer hot?

Maybe the only major sore spots for me with Dragon Quest VII Reimagined are the quality-of-life features, which is strange to say because I love them. Not only do you get additional difficulty modifiers, but treasures are marked on maps, there are almost always markers to show you where to go, and Party Chat is always there to remind you what to do next if you’re particularly stuck. There’s even a list of locations for your missing Mini Medals and items (an absolutely godsend). Admittedly, it can be a little weird sometimes to have a marker when you have no idea why you might go there, and the Party Chat is mostly just annoying. 

But the problem is quite simple: you can’t turn any of them off. Personally, especially when I’m playing a game for review, I’ll take all the handholding you give me. This game, though, takes it a little far. It’s a little maddening because the HD-2D Remakes of the original trilogy got this part right by allowing you to turn the guideposts off. I’m hopeful they patch it in time, yet if there’s one thing that isn’t true to the spirit of the series, it’s this.

Even so, with Reimagined, it’s time for everyone to finally stand up and agree that Dragon Quest VII is one of the best games in the series. Dragon Quest VII Reimagined cements this by smoothing out some of the rough edges, keeping things moving, and giving us a look and a combat system that are the series’ absolute peak. 

Just please, give me all my islands! 

  • Graphics: 98
  • Sound: 90
  • Gameplay: 95
  • Control: 100
  • Story: 90
95
Overall Score
(not an average)

About our grading scale

Review by · February 2, 2026 · 8:00 am

Much of the joy I derive from playing indie RPGs comes from seeing how independent developers remix familiar mechanics and classic presentation towards a singular purpose that a larger studio or publisher would never touch. Many big productions are so focused on appealing to everyone that they lack a cohesive vision or clear thematic message supported by strong mechanics that reinforce that goal. Hermit and Pig is what I’ve searched for: an adorable, quirky RPG that takes mechanics popularized by Earthbound, Paper Mario, and Mario & Luigi titles and intertwines them with a delightfully funny and incredibly insightful narrative. Hermit and Pig achieves what few games can, particularly in such a short run time. It made me laugh, it made me smile, and it made me consider its message.

Hermit and Pig follows the titular duo during yet another day in their sylvan, solitary existence. That is, except for the strange dreams plaguing Hermit’s nights, eerily glowing blue mushrooms haunting even his waking thoughts. Their mundane task of foraging for mushrooms is rudely interrupted by a young girl, Mary, who explains that she’s ventured deep into the woods in search of a mushroom big enough to feed everyone in town, the mythical Jumbo Fungo.

The local factory, run by weapons manufacturer DefenseTek, abruptly closed and left most of the residents out of work and unable to procure food. Meanwhile, the animals of the forest have gone rabid, aggressively attacking anyone who crosses their path. Hermit reasons he can’t let Mary return home on her own and sets out to get to the bottom of these strange happenings that have so rudely dislodged him from his solitude, using the duo’s foraging skills to find the fabled fungi. It’s a simple premise, but one that evolves significantly over the seven-hour journey as more of the mysteries behind Hermit’s dreams and the company that runs the factory become clear.

Screenshot of Hermit and Pig showing Hermit and Pig walking through the forest.
The Game Boy Advance’s influence on the bright, cartoony visuals really pays off.

The gameplay borrows heavily from timing-and-input-based combat systems, but Hermit and Pig does not simply replicate its inspirations. After all, Hermit and Pig are just an average old man and his porcine pet, and their options in combat fall within the bounds of possibility for such an unlikely duo, at least initially. Hermit can slap, punch, kick, stomp, swat critters away with his cane, and let off a well-aimed projectile from his slingshot. Combat takes place in first-person, and choosing the best attack requires careful examination of enemy characteristics. A prickly caterpillar? Skin-to-skin contact is a no-go, so the cane or slingshot is your best option. Does the animal have a hard shell? Your weapons of choice might glance off, but a firm kick or stomp will do the trick. Enemies will often change position during combat, requiring Hermit to alter his approach. For example, a snake may retreat into the reeds to heal each turn, leaving it out of reach of melee attacks but vulnerable to a rock from your slingshot. 

Furthermore, actually pulling off the chosen attack requires a precise combination of face buttons. Hermit’s handy wilderness survival manual contains the correct combinations, yet each turn is limited by a timer that ticks down, even when referencing the manual or digging through the inventory. This elevates what might otherwise be a simple combat system into an engaging test of reflexes, memory, and time management. If these limitations prove too restrictive or cumbersome, there is a bevy of accessibility options to make combos easier, shift to selecting attacks from a menu, and modify or eliminate the timer. Such options go that extra step to ensure anyone can enjoy the game, but I enjoyed the challenge on offer.

Hermit and Pig Screenshot showing a battle where Hermit punches an enemy.
The presentation in battle borrows a lot from Earthbound, but the combat mechanics are unique.

Pig’s abilities, on the other hoof, are support-oriented. He can attack, but his strikes are relatively weak during the opening hours. His real strengths lie in his ability to sniff out enemy weaknesses and forage for mushrooms. Mushrooms are a way of life for Hermit and Pig, and serve as both combat items and currency in the game. Pig can dig up valuable truffles hidden in the environment outside battle, and even forage for fungi mid-battle to aid Hermit. These mushrooms can restore hit points, recover status effects, inflict status ailments or debuffs on enemies, and buff Hermit and Pig if used correctly. 

Giving the pair their own defined roles keeps battle strategic, as combat scenarios involve a careful balance of dealing and tanking damage with Hermit while Pig aids his buddy and hinders the opponent. As the game progresses, Hermit and Pig stumble upon additional glowing mushrooms that grant new special abilities for battle. Hermit’s focus on damage dealing, while Pig’s new skills buff the entire party and grant him the ability to speak and negotiate with enemies. They also grow more adept at combat and can take multiple turns, though they remain limited to the same time window for executing attacks or abilities. This keeps combat from growing stale and allows the battle system to layer complexity without getting bogged down by higher stat totals.

Progression is similarly simple yet clever, as leveling up does not grant raw stat increases like a typical RPG. Instead, Hermit gains a single trinket point every time he levels up. Trinkets function like badges in Paper Mario, granting stat upgrades or altering character parameters when equipped. These trinkets are the only way to improve Hermit’s base stats, but the passive upgrade trinkets stand alongside trinkets that add status effects to attacks, increase exp gain, or various other alterations to the game’s systems. This variety enables many different character builds, and trinkets provide a nice reward for exploration and sidequest completion. 

Screenshot of Hermit and Pig showing a conversation between Hermit and a friendly NPC.
Hermit shouldn’t be so nervous. The locals are just as weird as he is!

This careful consideration of mechanics applies equally to the game’s narrative. Hermit lives a life of isolation because he suffers from crippling social anxiety. The game represents this by sweat bubbles that radiate from his sprite whenever a human NPC is near. Conversations are presented like battles, with the typical moveset replaced by dialogue options. Selecting the wrong dialogue option during conversations makes Hermit visibly cringe and take damage; successfully making it through small talk with another person rewards Hermit with experience points. For Hermit, every social interaction with another person is as fraught and dangerous as his physical confrontations, and the way the game remixes the battle mechanics for dialogue to reinforce Hermit’s personal difficulties is incredibly clever and empathetic. 


These conversations with the cast of quirky, off-beat human characters are the foundation of the game’s humor, and some of the “wrong” dialogue options are so funny I couldn’t help but choose them just to see the other character’s reaction. Hermit and Pig’s journey takes them all across their forest home, into a fishing village poisoned by radiation from a crashed truck, and into the local town where economic strife has everyone at each other’s throats. Hermit and Pig are unlikely heroes, but they end up helping the locals deal with the fallout of the factory closure and resulting environmental damage to the ecosystem despite themselves.

Hermit is repeatedly forced into uncomfortable social situations, like giving a pep talk to a gruff fisherman or inspiring a group of unemployed factory workers, each interaction building his confidence and forming connections with others in the community. This pays off in Hermit and Pig’s penultimate chapter, as Pig is kidnapped by DefenseTek goons, leaving Hermit to continue on truly alone. However, the various people Hermit helped along the way (Mary, Big Zug the fisherman, Thilaxia the mycologist, and Wren the survival guide) come to his aid, tagging along behind Hermit out of battle and joining him in combat. It’s a heartwarming and powerful moment that illustrates just how far Hermit has come in conquering his social anxiety.

Screenshot of Hermit and Pig showing Hermit petting Pig.
Since I know you were wondering this throughout the review: yes, you can pet Pig!

Hermit and Pig isn’t content to rest on this effective tale of personal growth, offering a surprisingly insightful and poignant societal critique through biting satire. The developers at Heavy Lunch Studios take aim at everything from the environmental impacts of industry and the pursuit of corporate profit at the expense of social cohesion, to calling out the boot-licking absurdity of pop country music and the power of collective solidarity over corporate greed. The game’s core message really comes across in the final climax. Without spoiling the final revelations, I’ll say that the mushroom theme is more than quirky set dressing, and the developers use the concept of a mycelial network as a metaphor for solidarity in the face of labor exploitation and the environmental impact of resource extraction and warmongering. Heavy topics, to be sure, but Hermit and Pig navigates these concepts deftly without sacrificing the humor and lighthearted tone that defines the game’s early hours.  


I came to Hermit and Pig expecting a cute, humorous take on timing-based combat, and I got that, but I also got so much more. It’s truly rare for a game to have such thematic cohesion in both storytelling and mechanics, but Hermit and Pig delivers on that promise without coming off as pretentious or preachy. Heavy Lunch has something deeply important to say about our current moment, but they say it with a smile and laugh, enough to make the herbal remedy for humanity’s worst excesses go down easy. It’s clear that the developers understand and love human beings, despite all our flaws, and believe in our potential to create a better world than the one we have now, if only we could focus less on the “I,” and more on the “We.”

  • Graphics: 90
  • Sound: 85
  • Gameplay: 95
  • Control: 90
  • Story: 95
95
Overall Score
(not an average)

About our grading scale