Big Walk Is One Of The Best Co-Op Games Ever

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In the three years since Big Walk was announced, I've heard it referred to as a co-op walking sim, a puzzle-adventure game, and friendslop. After spending 20+ hours in the world of the Australian Outback-inspired game, it's no easier to succinctly define it, because it's not actually like anything else. By inventively stripping down the medium to its most essential parts, it invites novices and experts alike to build it back up from scratch, coloring in its mysterious world with their friends by their side. We need a new word for whatever kind of game Big Walk really is, but here's one for now: unforgettable. 

Big Walk is a game about walking and talking with friends, played in first-person for groups of 2-12 players. Embodying vaguely humanoid characters--think multicolored snowmen with long noses and noodly appendages--you and your friends will trek across a vast and open island, hunting down nameless MacGuffins by way of solving an abundance of inventive puzzles together. This intentionally basic setup belies the depth you'll discover the more time you spend on its island.

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Before you head off, you'll convene in a starting area that looks a bit like a playground or a children's gym, full of buttons to push; vibrant, sometimes bouncy objects to pick up and kick; and climbable surfaces. It's here where you'll learn most everything you need to know about what you can do, like all the gestures you can make with your body, how to use proximity chat to your aid, and how to deal with the physics of the world. For example, you may note how falling a great distance doesn't mean taking fall damage, but it may mean you drop what you were holding and lose it in a forest until the sun comes up. 

The first four puzzles act as a tutorial. In a more limited section of the island, you'll seek them out deep in the woods, high atop hills, or along beaches, work together to solve them, and unlock their corresponding MacGuffins, then place them in a console that unlocks virtually the entire rest of the island all at once. From there, it's your group's call to make, and your path through the world won't be the same as any other. 

Unlike Peak, which the game has often been compared to, Big Walk's island is handcrafted, not randomly generated, and it shows. Every inch of the world feels intentional, from the switchbacks down the mountainsides meant to give you the hint of a far-off landmark, to the radio stations you can come across, each of them playing their own special song that you can carry with you if you're in the mood for some music on your journey. Because there are so many puzzles, sometimes you'll even take aspects of one puzzle to solve others, and the game offers clever environmental hints when this is required.

In small ways, puzzles change depending on your group size. The host maintains the save data across sessions, allowing players to join or drop when they may need to, but different versions of the island exist for parties of two, three, or four-plus, with slight tweaks to each puzzle to accommodate the number of people in a group.

No matter your team size, Big Walk adjusts to give you an appropriate challenge.

Some puzzles will be a bit easier with more people putting their heads together, while others will be much more chaotic; one of the first puzzles my group found was basically a basketball hoop with big bouncy lights as the ball, and if you don't easily tame a group of a dozen players, you'll all be knocking each other's shots away from the basket until someone takes command and establishes a turn order. 

There's a remarkable clarity to the visual language in Big Walk that's conveyed right at the start, but everything else there is to know about it is built on a foundation you make together with your friends, establishing your own vocabulary and body language in such an effortlessly cool, intuitive way that so many other games seem afraid of. Playing with two of my kids, we took to calling the dozens of MacGuffins "eggy things" because of their somewhat egg-like shape, and we called our characters "walklings."

As the hazy semblance of a story unfolded, we made sense of it in our own words. Big Walk clearly hopes each group does this. That's why it fills its world with fundamental video game objects and objectives, like puzzles and their rewards, but adds nothing definitive beyond that.

Big Walk's world speaks for itself. There are no quest markers or on-screen prompts, and no stamina or health bars to manage. Every aspect of the game is diegetic, and every discovery is of your own making. There's no lore dump or explainer as to who you are or why you're solving puzzles on an island that only your group seems to inhabit. Across its realistic-looking landscape are many more cartoonishly colored structures of all shapes and sizes that stick out by contrast, and developer House House trusts each friend group to carve out their own adventure through the world, letting their curiosity guide them and building on shared learning hour after hour.

Getting a bird's-eye view of the island reveals just how much there is to see and do.

Some puzzles demand you work closely together side by side, timing your actions just right or fidgeting with buttons and points of view, while others demand you split up, sometimes for long stretches at a time and across great distances. In those instances, finding each other afterward is its own sort of puzzle to solve. Many puzzles will inhibit your ability to communicate, like one where a player is locked behind soundproof glass and must relay information to the others that only the lone walkling has. There are probably only about six to eight core concepts the game focuses on, but each time House House returns to an idea, it adds clever new wrinkles. 

In one of the game's most devilishly designed puzzles, I was forced to wear a helmet that blinded me, leaving my group to guide me across a treacherous obstacle course with only their vocal callouts. Hours later on our journey, this same dastardly helmet showed up again, but with new rules that demanded I, as the helmet-wearer again, carry the right objects to their intended corners of an area, which meant our group needed to figure out which were the right objects in the first place, before I could even begin to follow their vocal instructions.

I can think of a few puzzles that were quite daunting, especially with a seven-year-old in the group, but none frustrated us. Often, we'd climb to a mountaintop to get a lay of the land, head off toward some vibrant structure in the middle of a wooded area, and fidget with its movable parts until we got a sense of what we needed to do. Through clear collaboration and our own invented language, we'd achieve success--sometimes quickly, in just a few minutes, but other times after much more head-scratching for puzzles that took us 20 or more minutes to solve. Every time we'd solve a puzzle, my kids and I would rejoice with a chant: "Egg-y thing! Egg-y thing!" while throwing our walklings' hands into the air together. 

Though the game is light on traditional story, it feels like describing many of its amazing puzzles is a type of spoiler. The ritual of genuine discovery, followed by cooperative experimentation, and finally, shared elation, is the magic of Big Walk, doled out with the completion of each puzzle, but even more often in the in-between moments when you're just chatting as you explore the outback. For a few hours every night, for about two weeks, this was our beloved ceremony together. We helped each other get our bearings, found each other when we'd gotten lost and separated, and commended each other when one of us would crack the solution to a puzzle wide open. 

The way Big Walk nudges players to work together in tight-knit ways is a recurring bit of genius.

Big Walk has a defined ending and isn't meant to be played forever, though with a different group of friends, it does retain some appeal. When we weren't playing it, we were talking about it, trying to solve some puzzles we'd set aside if they'd stumped us for too long, or crafting theories about the massive black orb that waited beyond a wall we couldn't (yet?) access. It's a game of few words, opting instead to give players a massive canvas on which to create their own story together. For a handful of special evenings, the island was our home away from home. 

With every few puzzles, major new rewards become available, like a train that moves around the island or a giant map room to help plot your travels. You may also stumble upon totally missable shortcuts, reinforcing that your triumphs are yours to celebrate and not based on any HUD arrow you've followed. You'll come upon helpful handheld items, like walkie-talkies, flashlights, and megaphones, but as best I can recall, such items tend to make some puzzles easier, but they're rarely required, so it becomes a question of, for example, leaving the puzzle to find a pair of walkie-talkies or solving a puzzle without them even if it would clearly help a lot.

Inventory space is limited to what you can carry in your hands, on your belt, or in your backpack, and anything you're not holding can't even be accessed on your own. You'll need a buddy to take that backpack off of you if you want to consult the paper map you may have stashed inside of it. This seemingly small design decision really speaks to Big Walk's main idea. First imagined during the COVID pandemic, House House sought to make a game that brings people closer to one another, to get them talking and having meaningful interactions. For me, it worked wonders. 

It's not often my kids and I can all play a game together with the same enthusiasm, as the taste preferences among a 37-, 13-, and seven-year-old don't tend to align. But Big Walk offers a gameplay loop that feels universal in its appeal. It deconstructs video games into their most foundational verbs: discover, experiment, prevail. The context of a mysterious island and the silly-looking characters you play as surely enhance the experience, but it's the simplistic gameplay loop taken to a depth that is exciting but never so involved as to leave some players behind that makes it so easily beloved. 

Though it's not as slapstick-funny as some games with shared DNA, Big Walk definitely has a comedic side.

Though it leaves room for goofing off, Big Walk doesn't have the cadence of a friendslop game, where the purposely janky sabotage of your friends' best intentions is much of the fun. Some failures can be amusing, and the game as a whole definitely has an understated comedic tone befitting of its Australian dev studio, but the true highlight is the shared joys of exploring the world and overcoming its obstacles through thoughtful communication and teamwork.

There's a lot more stopping and thinking in Big Walk than perhaps its title suggests. You'll do plenty of walking, but you'll do even more talking, and if you're playing with friends or family you love and appreciate, it's bound to be a deeply rewarding experience.

It's also a well-polished game, with the only bug I encountered serving as an accidentally hilarious moment--when my daughter's walkling got stuck in a folding chair and we carried her around for a while like she was Cleopatra. 

The only noticeable knock on the game is one that demands some self-policing. Without using Big Walk's proximity chat, you'd turn its magic off like flipping a switch. Using Steam or Discord chat, for example, would act like a cheat code, circumventing a puzzle's intentional friction, such as when proximity chat is intended to fail at times, blocking you from easily talking to your group. So it's really on you to choose not to do that, or else accept that you've opted to make the game worse for yourself.

This is where it shares the most in common with more typical friendslop games like Peak and Lethal Company. The element of proximity chat does a lot of heavy lifting to make Big Walk shine brightly, so refusing to engage with that feature would be like playing a horror game with the lights on; you can still enjoy it, but you'll be holding it back from reaching the height of its powers.

The journey each group goes on will feature similar puzzles, but very different experiences overall.

Big Walk's incredible focus culminates in a final stretch of puzzles that encapsulates everything you'll have seen and done until that point in a genuinely mind-blowing way. My kids and I spent over a dozen hours together solving many difficult puzzles and inventing a language which we often relied on, only for the final iteration of the game's core concepts to be so slight in its adjustments yet so awesomely rewarding in its execution. It dared us to put together everything we've taught each other, recalling our entire journey.

I was utterly floored by the way this area masterfully fuses the game's repeated actions of experimenting and exploring with the undercurrent of its emotional beats that purposely rise to the surface toward the very end of the game. I loved every second of Big Walk, and this final act cemented it as one of the best co-op games I've played in years. 

As if that weren't enough to land Big Walk as an obvious Game of the Year contender, the very last scene of the game sneak-attacked me with a surprisingly bittersweet moment that left me glossy-eyed. I wouldn't dare spoil this part for you, but I'm sure it'll have a similar effect even if you're not playing with your kids. Big Walk takes fundamental and timeless video game concepts--obstacles and incentives for clearing them--and, through an intensely focused co-op experience, shapes them into something singularly rewarding, supremely mysterious, and totally unforgettable.

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It Feels Wrong For Halo To Feel Better Than Ever On PS5

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There's something that almost feels sacrilegious about playing Halo on a PlayStation console. The sci-fi shooter franchise feels quintessentially Xbox, and while you've been able to play Halo: The Master Chief Collection on PC with a DualSense controller, there's something extra odd with playing a version of Halo covered in a PlayStation-oriented UI and seeing PlayStation Trophies pop with every completed in-game accomplishment. 

And yet, despite how weird it is to be playing Halo on a PlayStation 5, it's still Halo. And so it's really fun.

Not to be confused with Halo: Combat Evolved, Halo: Campaign Evolved (because why would they make the title acronyms different and make things easier for me?) is a remake of the very first Halo, and it's also the first Halo game to be playable on one of Sony's consoles. Unlike the 2011 remaster Halo: Combat Evolved Anniversary--which provided a graphical upgrade and added co-op gameplay and brand-new collectibles like lore-filled terminals and gameplay-modifying skulls--Campaign Evolved is a much more drastic transformation.

In the first Halo game, protagonist John-117, aka the Master Chief, awakens aboard a starship after it's been attacked by an alien alliance known as the Covenant. As a super-soldier called a Spartan, Master Chief is tasked with escaping the doomed ship with its artificial intelligence, Cortana, to a nearby moon-sized ring that humanity has never seen before. Cortana quickly learns that this ring, referred to as Halo, is important to the Covenant, and Master Chief sets out to learn what it is and why the Covenant want it, while also helping the various human survivors who made it to the ring's surface and are contending with Covenant forces.

Developed in Unreal Engine 5, Campaign Evolved's visuals are a huge jump from 2001's Combat Evolved. And as the name suggests, the actual story campaign has changed too. There are three brand-new missions that take place one year prior to the events of the main story, the levels in the main story have been redesigned in certain sections in terms of both layout and mission objective, and brand-new cutscenes further flesh out the characters and stories with references that longtime fans will recognize are now early teasers for Halo 2. 

The gameplay has been overhauled too, implementing changes to make the first Halo play more like Master Chief's later adventures. Some of these changes radically alter how it feels to play the first Halo--like the ability to sprint, or aim down sights on all weapons--while others feel much smaller. A mechanic like vehicle hijacking was not added to Halo until the second game in the series, so its addition in Campaign Evolved is technically new, for example. But vehicle hijacking doesn't feel like an extraordinary game-changer because the number of times you have the opportunity to use it are few and far between.

While the much larger (and visually gorgeous) environments, grander firefight arenas, and newly added "hold-the-line" encounters make for an altogether longer game to both explore and fight through, playing Campaign Evolved feels like the memory I have of playing Combat Evolved. The changes to the story and gameplay are noticeable to anyone who has familiarity with the first Halo, but the remake's adjustments don't feel like a complete departure from its source material. 

If anything, Campaign Evolved makes the story of Combat Evolved feel more in line with the lore and overall story developed in the games, books, and animated series that were released after the first Halo. Everything is just better connected--bringing the Brutes into Halo 1 erases the confusion as to why they're in Halo Reach and Halo 2, but not the game that canonically takes place in between them, for instance. And Captain Keyes' daughter, Miranda, is also now mentioned multiple times, setting up her in-game introduction in Halo 2. The original Combat Evolved doesn't acknowledge her existence because she didn't exist when that game was made. But she's now a major part of Halo 2 and Halo 3 (as well as several books) so it makes sense that her dad would at least talk about her in Halo 1.

Are any of these details crucial to the story told in the first Halo? No. Do these changes make the overall story of Master Chief's first game better flow into the second? Yes.

The changes are so much better that Campaign Evolved feels like the new gold standard for playing through the first Halo--I'd recommend this over Combat Evolved Anniversary. Every change feels like an improvement on what came before.

While the three new prequel missions don't rise to the same dramatic highs that make the main story of Combat Evolved so memorable, their inclusion does improve the overall experience and I recommend anyone who picks up Campaign Evolved play these new missions first (the game counts them as a separate story that you can choose to play at any point). 

These new missions see Master Chief and fan-favorite Sergeant Johnson infiltrate a Covenant ship in an effort to find intel on the alien threat's main base of operations. The duo have fantastic back-and-forth that builds up their relationship in a way that Combat Evolved's story simply doesn't have time for because they're split up almost immediately, and even when they do reunite, they then both go off on their separate missions. Combat Evolved's story is a largely solo affair of Chief doing his best to help his human allies as he moves from place to place across the Halo ring, and Campaign Evolved remains faithful to that lonely-feeling journey despite supporting co-op. 

So having a chance to see Chief interact with a friend does a lot of the heavy lifting in characterizing him as an actual person. You see that he has a sense of humor and is fiercely loyal to others (aspects that aren't really explored until Halo 2). And seeing just how, daresay, shy he is with marines he doesn't really know brings the whole psychological toll of being a Spartan to the forefront of his character. That's something you don't really get at all unless you read the books, watch the intro or closing cinematics of Halo 4, or play Halo Infinite. 

These three prequel missions also just have a very Halo Reach feel (there's even a mission in space that isn't all that great in comparison to other sci-fi space battle games, but plays well enough to be a good time). The horrifying threat of the Flood, the mystique of the Forerunners, and the drama of AI rampancy feel so far away. In these missions, it's all about the ongoing galactic war between humanity's scrappiness and an alien threat's technological superiority. As Chief and Johnson do their best to keep each other motivated, navigate a Covenant nature preserve in which the aliens hunt human prisoners for sport, and gaze down upon a planet that has been transformed into glass after undergoing an orbital plasma cannon bombardment, you can just feel it: Humanity is losing. And unless they get a miracle, they'll go extinct. 

These missions lead so well into the main story of Campaign Evolved, establishing that humanity is on the backfoot. My one major qualm with these new prequel missions is that they introduce two new characters: a new Covenant prophet and a new human fireteam leader. Neither are very fleshed out, beyond "evil scientist is evil" and "rough and tough marine," and that feels like such a missed opportunity. Chief meets several prophets across the Halo games, and fights alongside tons of humanity's soldiers. Given how well these prequel missions flesh out Chief and Johnson's relationship, they could have done the same for Chief and an existing prophet or human ally. Instead they introduce new characters but don't have the time to give either one enough time to breath and evolve into nuanced individuals. 

These two characters are not so bad that they ruin the story of these prequel missions, but they both feel like sci-fi tropes. Admittedly, Halo is filled with sci-fi tropes, but it also has some fantastic characters. So whenever a couple of duds pop up, they really stick out for how poorly characterized they are.

Additionally, Campaign Evolved doesn't quite figure out checkpoints. The game's automatic checkpoints seem to trigger for a variety of reasons: reaching a specific spot in a level, killing a certain number of enemies in an area, leaving combat entirely, or some combination of the three. The logic for what counts and what doesn't isn't super consistent and seems to shift parameters moment-to-moment, leading to irritating setbacks--when it's not abundantly clear why getting defeated in one lengthy fight sends you all the way back to the beginning of it, while a defeat in the fight that had just occurred prior only sent you back a few seconds, it can feel like the checkpoint system is finicky at best and unfair at worst. This is a problem in both the main story and the new prequel missions, though I noticed it a lot more in the latter than the former. It's not so bad that I ever wanted to put the game down in frustration, but it's certainly annoying whenever it happens to pop up, especially if you're playing on one of the more challenging difficulties, like Heroic or Legendary.

These issues aside, however, Halo: Campaign Evolved is awesome. And that's not surprising, simply because Halo: Combat Evolved is a fantastic game. There's a reason this story is a classic. Its explosive opening chapter plunges immediately into a series of desperate, high-action firefights that repeatedly reward your precise aim and strategic battle awareness with the sensation of being a heroic super-soldier. Humanity's weapons punch through flesh, while the Covenant's alien firearms and explosives satisfyingly melt enemy shields and paint the walls and floors with purple-blue plasma. For lack of a better word, the orchestral score is perfect, and I envy you if this will be your first time hearing it. And the main story's abrupt shift from a straightforward war between two civilizations into a desperate race by both sides to escape and contain a terrifying new threat that neither can handle is still as tense as it was back in 2001.

It's still an odd sensation to be playing a Halo game on a PlayStation console. If you had asked teenage Jordan--the one who spent hundreds upon hundreds of hours laughing alongside their friends in Halo 3 and Halo Reach online multiplayer--whether Halo would ever make its way to a Sony console, they'd have told you it was impossible. Yet, here we are. And 25 years later, Halo: Combat Evolved's story is still really, really good.

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Splatoon Raiders Shows The Series Should Have Always Been A Looter Shooter

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Splatoon is a Nintendo series that I've enjoyed well enough, but fleetingly. Even with solid shooting mechanics and a playful gimmick revolving around quickly traversing paint-soaked battlefields, the competitive multiplayer often failed to hold my interest beyond a few weeks. Splatoon Raiders isn't the first time the series has attempted single-player, as each previous game would have a brief story campaign. But it is the first time Nintendo has built a whole game around single-player, and the looter shooter approach works so well that I hope it marks a new beginning for Splatoon that can live alongside the multiplayer games.

In a lot of ways, it's easy to imagine how Splatoon Raiders came together. It uses a lot of the basic structure of a regular Splatoon game, like varied weapon types and Salmonid enemies. Even its main heroes, the members of the band Deep Cut, hail from Splatoon 3. Yet Splatoon Raiders rearranges all these familiar parts into a new shape that is best summarized by a quote found near the beginning of the game:  "All that matters now is the loot!" 

Splatoon Raiders

Instead of splatting your fellow squid kids and competing to get the most ink coverage, you're taking on a series of PvE challenges. Some of these involve quickly gathering Power Eggs on a timer while others have you roaming a map gathering crystals to power your drilling machine, but the core goal remains the same: defeat Salmonids and get loot. It's simple but it works. Instead of competing to cover the ground with ink, your own ink color (and custom character accents) changes from stage to stage, while your Salmonid enemies are consistently spewing a sickly yellow-green goo.

Returning Splatoon fans will find a lot of familiarity here. Your core weapons, like shooters, splatanas, and dualies, are all here, as well as some weapons that make less sense in this format. The roller was my mainstay in traditional competitive Splatoon games, when I would try to help my team with maximum ink coverage, but it's much less useful while fighting off hordes of superpowered fish. I mostly stuck with rapid-fire weapons like shooters and dualies, but occasionally changed it up with a shotgun-like slosher. The weapons you find have numbered levels that generally match your current experience level, so sometimes Raiders will gently push you to try something new. If you haven't found a new version of your preferred weapon type for a while, of course you'll try out a stronger but less familiar weapon. 

The real game-changer is the array of Gadgets. You have three Tank types--Speed, Power, and Tactical--which mostly define your Gadget selection. The Speed tank gives you access to the Booyarang, a spinning weapon that squirts some ink in a small radius, while the Power tank gives you Splatellites that circle around you, and the Tactical tank gives you the Shot Pot auto-turret. Each of the gadgets feel very different from each other, and you're able to develop new Gadgets as you progress through the game. I stuck mostly to the Power Tank and my favorite Gadget, the Splatellite, all throughout.

Big Man pilots the digger in Splatoon Raiders

The game again encourages experimentation with Sampler Dungeons, short trial dungeons that let you test out with a Gadget you may not have tried, and rewards your curiosity with a bonus Skill Point. They're always worth doing because of the bonus, and the curated nature of the stages allows the game to walk you through a lot of the clever applications of the Gadgets.

To get even more creative, each Gadget can also be modified by equipping parts. This is one of the aspects you can upgrade with your Skill Points and it's almost always worth it to do, as enhancing your Gadgets is a major part of finding your own strategy to take on the increasingly tough waves of Salmonids. The Gadget parts offer fairly simple upgrades initially, like enhancing their power or area of effect. But as you find and create more, you can add special effects like scorch damage for the Splatellites, or increased damage the further you fall for your ground-striking Meteor Mitt. 

The array of options leads to creative applications that I was still discovering late in the game. The Splatellites are primarily a defensive weapon, but eventually I had reduced their cooldown so much they could be used almost indefinitely, and they created such a large area of effect that they essentially laid down a track of swimmable ink in front of me while I was in squid form. That made it much easier to quickly traverse the battlefield without having to pause to shoot a swimming path. If I saw, say, a turret tower in the distance, I could just activate my Gadget and swim straight over to make quick work of it. That's just one application, and it feels like I could find many more for each piece of gear. 

Splatellites circle you in Splatoon Raiders

For emergencies, you also get to equip one Showstopper ability that is paired to which member of Deep Cut you bring along on your voyages. Those power up as well, but recharge much more slowly than your Gadgets, and fill with eggs from defeated enemies instead of a cooldown. However, these Showstoppers make up for their lengthier wait period by packing a serious punch and the ability to completely change the way a match is going. Shiver's ability, which spawns a massive shark to cut across the battlefield, bailed me out more than a few times. 

In both the case of the Power Tank and Showstopper, though, I eventually hit max level and plateaued. It's clear that Splatoon Raiders wants you to swap between them to power them up, but the stages kept ramping up in difficulty and I would feel underpowered when I tried switching to another. So rather than gain valuable experience for the Speed or Tactical Tank, or for the other two Showstoppers, I was just gaining useless experience points toward skills I had already mastered. It would have been nice if I could have applied this spillover experience to my lesser-used Tanks and Showstoppers to speed up their leveling, but instead I was forced to gain functionally nothing unless I wanted to feel underpowered. 

Keeping up with the level requirements of the stages was a must, because the array of Salmonids gets pretty tough. Like the weapons, these are mostly recognizable from past Splatoon games, but they're given new life here. Many of them are given overpowered "Seasoned" forms, identifiable by a thick layer of salt covering them that makes them extra-tough. Raiders gets a shocking amount of mileage out of rearranging the enemies across different compositions and battlefields, and near the end it starts to get incredibly hectic. Managing the battlefield and prioritizing threats is a harried thrill that never gets old, especially with the promise of sweet loot. 

Shiver rides a shark in Splatoon Raiders

The stages are usually around 10 minutes, which feels like the ideal length for a casual looter shooter like this. It's just enough time to hop in, take down some enemies, then go back to base to check out your new gear and ready-up to go again. But in the stages that required some level of crystal completion, I would often just hang around and keep taking down Salmonids even after fulfilling the requirement, simply because I was enjoying the satisfaction of taking down enemies. That feels like the mark of a great gameplay loop.

Splatoon Raiders isn't entirely absent of multiplayer. You can group up and take part in co-op raids with enemies that scale up in difficulty, and you'll still get loot and experience from your co-op raids. It's a nice-to-have feature that worked well in my limited pre-release experience, but it's really not the focus here. You could play through the entirety of Splatoon Raiders as a single-player shooter, and it's better for it.

I would be surprised if Splatoon Raiders supplants the main Splatoon titles. The series is a big success for Nintendo, so clearly the competitive ink-splattering multiplayer has found an audience. But Splatoon Raiders shows a new degree of flexibility for the franchise, with a single-player campaign that's much more satisfying than its past attempts to inject a story campaign into the main games. I hope this new looter shooter sub-series gets to live alongside the main series, because it's loads of fun already, and the concept could be pushed even further.

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Black Flag Resynced Is A Bad Remake Of Peak Assassin’s Creed

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I've been conflicted about Assassin's Creed Black Flag Resynced since it was announced. The original 2013 pirate action-adventure is one of my favorite games ever, so my immediate reaction to hearing it was getting a remake for current-era consoles was excitement. In that very first announcement video, Ubisoft said that Resynced would not reinvent protagonist Edward Kenway's tale, but that there would be large changes to combat, parkour, stealth, and the structure of the overall story. And while changes like that fall within the framework of what a remake is, I couldn't tell if these adjustments would mean Resynced still felt faithful to the original game. And regardless of whether or not it was, there was also the bigger question of if this remake would be better than Black Flag.

Having now played Resynced, I don't think it is better. That still means Resynced is pretty good. Black Flag is one of the best games in the Assassin's Creed series, and Resynced doesn't change so much that that's no longer the case. The issue is that for every positive change that Resynced makes to Black Flag, it stumbles into creating a new problem.

If you asked me what Black Flag is, I'd tell you it was a treasure hunt. You play as a normal employee of an entertainment company in the 21st century who is scrubbing through the memories of Edward Kenway, a Welsh privateer-turned-pirate trying to make his fortune in the 18th century, via a machine called an Animus. Your mission is initially just to capture footage of Edward's life to make a new media project. However, your research into Edward's memories draws the attention of your bosses. Turns out, Edward stumbled across someone who knew of a site called the Observatory during this period of his life, and your bosses want to know whether Edward ever found it himself. They task you with spending more and more time reliving Edward's life in hopes of finding where it's hidden in the past, so that they can rediscover it for themselves in the modern day. 

You don't know what the Observatory really is or why you're looking for it, and your efforts slowly pull you into a shadow war between freedom-protecting Assassins and order-oriented Templars--and at the same time, you see Edward similarly get pulled into that same conflict 300 years earlier. Mirroring your character's life to Edward's is straightforward but effective narrative framing, and it adds this incredible science-fiction flavoring to what's an already terrific historical fantasy adventure. To date, it's one of the best intertwined present-and-past stories in the series--only the first two Assassin's Creed games do it better.

Resynced gets rid of pretty much all of that. The intro does establish that you're experiencing a simulation of Edward's life via the Animus but doesn't provide any reasoning up front as to why you're doing it. The original game's modern-day missions have been completely stripped away, reframing the entire adventure. It no longer feels like a sci-fi treasure hunt.

Instead, Resynced is a sci-fi rebellion. But you won't get this framing if you just play Resynced's story, as the modern-day missions that provide this framing are all optional.

Resynced is actually a sequel to Assassin's Creed Shadows, not Assassin's Creed III like the original Black Flag. It continues the story of Animus users who have awakened as Travelers to fight against Ego, an artificial intelligence created by the Templars that is now training itself to become the perfect overlord of the human race. If you go out of your way to find them (like really out of your way--the game does not make it easy for you), you can find rifts that allow you to temporarily enter what I can only surmise is the Black Room, where Ego shows you how it would use details of Edward, Blackbeard, and Mary Read's lives to generate what it thinks is a better version of historical events. 

Ego theorizes that if these three pirates' stories were that of a man who returned to his wife, a pirate captain who took the king's pardon, and an Assassin who left the Brotherhood, and all three were ultimately rewarded with wealth and happiness for choosing to live as good little sheep, then perhaps more Animus users like you would be inspired to fall in line rather than embrace a chaotic life and seek out personal fame, fortune, and freedom. In Ego's eyes, the best way to guide humanity into a better future is if the ugliness of the past is erased and replaced with something that is safe and sober, but robbed of all reason and sapped of all spirit.

This. Is. Fascinating! However, this weird-as-hell (in a cool way) sci-fi story is frustratingly tucked away in optional side content that's not easy to find because it's not even marked on the in-game map. You just have to know where to look for these four rifts or spend hours scouring every corner of the Caribbean. And hopefully you've also done all the rifts in Shadows so that you have the context for who Ego is, why the Guide and Eagle are fighting Ego, who the Guide and Eagle even are (it is a whole thing, let me tell you), and what it means for you to be one of the Travelers. 

This bizarre mishandling of the framing device for Resynced's story encapsulates the remake's failings. It does a lot of cool stuff, but it also doesn't use that cool stuff very effectively. It's so bewildering to play this game and see moments of brilliance continuously mishandled. 

I adore what Resynced does for Anne Bonny, for example, a character who takes on an important role in the final chapters of Black Flag but is largely absent for most of the story. Resynced has Anne introduced as soon as Edward returns to Nassau at the very beginning of the game, and she regularly pops up in the story after that in reimagined cutscenes and brand-new missions that further flesh out her importance to Edward. It makes all of the already-great scenes involving her in the later chapters hit even harder. The same is true for Ed Thatch and Stede Bonnet, both of whom also get more screen time and brand-new missions that continue their storylines after their departure from Black Flag's story and give them a more fulfilling end.

So why then does Resynced bother to add brand-new characters who have very little screentime and unrewarding finales to their arcs that leaves them feeling separated from Edward's tale? The remake is fixing the problem of Black Flag's old characters and then adding new characters who have the flaws that were just fixed in the original characters, preserving one of the original problems of Black Flag.

Resynced's other issues aren't nearly as severe, but they all add up and needle at you throughout the experience. Most are a result of trying to fit Black Flag into a new game engine. What the various teams across Ubisoft have been able to accomplish with Ubisoft Anvil is to be commended (Mirage and Resynced feel so much better to play than Origins), but it's still clearly an engine designed for an action-RPG, not a stealth-driven action-adventure. Edward's freerunning is better than the likes of Origins' Bayek or Odyssey's Kassandra, but both the mechanical depth and the feeling of his freerunning still fall behind Unity's Arno and the protagonists who preceded him. 

And while combat does at times feel like a modern take on the counter-heavy combat of Black Flag, the use of pistols, the rope dart, the sweeping kick, and the forward kick is clearly just a cleverly hidden version of the battle abilities from the RPG-style Assassin's Creed games--there's a bit more strategy to using these equipment and skills in Resynced, but not enough to keep combat exciting across a 30-hour story given the poor enemy variety. 

The new animations and voicelines are hit-or-miss too. Many of Edward's new lines add excellent insight to his character during scenes where there previously was none, while some of the new lines--especially his extremely pro-Assassin, anti-Templar one-liners that he spouts with every Assassin Contract--feel like a mischaracterization that makes him oddly heroic during a portion of the game where he has to be a scumbag for the story to work. Brand-new cutscenes add more story, but at the cost of poor facial animations that look like wooden puppets talking to each other. Some of the cutscenes that were in the original game are also somehow worse, with strange facial hiccups (at least on Xbox Series X) distorting the longing glances, winks, smirks, scowls, and contemplative sighs that carried so much narrative weight in the original Black Flag.

Resynced also gives Edward the ability to quietly crouch walk and slink behind cover anywhere, not just stalker zones, and incorporates some of Shadows' uses of weather and darkness to add new considerations to stealth, but the remake's outright removal of all tailing missions (which, admittedly were a pain point in the original game) means these improvements don't have much use. Social stealth is also back in Resynced (great!) but almost every mission that relied on those mechanics has been removed or changed, meaning there's little chance to engage with it (bad!). 

In fact, when it comes to the mass deletion of all mandatory tailing missions and changing almost every social stealth mission so that they no longer rely on stealth mechanics, Resynced feels like too big of a swing in the other direction, recreating Black Flag into a game like the action-packed adventures of Kassandra or Eivor. And that makes sense--all of these games are made in the same engine.

The issue is that, unlike those games, Resynced isn't an RPG--there are no ways for Edward to talk his way through problems, disguise himself, or create clever opportunities. He can only engage through the action part of the action-RPG formula. So instead of having missions with a wide variety and breadth of structure, you're still mostly doing the same thing over and over. Resynced might have been a stronger experience if only half of the social stealth-driven tailing missions were removed, as changing pretty much all of them and moving Edward's story in a more action-oriented direction simply shifts one problem into another. 

Weird camera cuts and dramatic perspective shifts during assassination takedowns and chain kills also make it irritatingly tricky to keep track of enemies in enclosed spaces, like caves or the decks of smaller ships--it's totally fine to have this in the wide-open locales of Origins' Egypt or Odyssey's Greece, but it clashes with Black Flag's structure. The game hasn't changed enough to fit the new game engine, which leads me to wonder why this wasn't just a brand-new pirate adventure during this time period that followed a new protagonist. Edward meets so many other Assassins! We didn't need to stick to the rigidity of his story again if it doesn't really fit the mechanics of this new game engine.

I could go on but the point remains: There are plenty of great changes in Resynced, but equally a ton of pain points in trying to force the Black Flag structure to fit into an engine designed for a very different type of Assassin's Creed. This makes Resynced less of a new gold standard for Edward's adventure, and more of a bizzaro-world variation of the original Black Flag. If you haven't played Black Flag (or at least don't revisit it often), you should play Resynced, because even though it doesn't feel like a faithful remake to me, it is still remaking a game that's already critically acclaimed. But if you have played Black Flag, I'm not sure if Resynced will hit you as hard emotionally as you're hoping for.

All said, I regard Resynced with the exact same sentiments as Mass Effect Legendary Edition. Resynced goes beyond the scope of a traditional remaster and adjusts the content of Black Flag to make improvements to the experience (what you'd expect for a remake). But the downside to these fixes is that it highlights problems that weren't fixed or, even worse, new problems that didn't even exist in the original game. Resynced is a half-step toward something truly fantastic. If you play it, you will see the strengths of Black Flag. You will see why the original game was the de facto pirate video game for years. But you will also find a remake that doesn't manage to take the crown from the very game that it's remaking.

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Nintendo’s Wackiest New Game Feels Like The Devs Getting Away With Something

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Somewhere in the back of my mind, I must have known that Rhythm Heaven was a close cousin to WarioWare, but it never stood out to me as strongly as it did while playing Rhythm Heaven Groove. The sheer unapologetic weirdness of it intertwined with the strict timing-based minigames made this feel like WarioWare, but as a rhythm game. And I feel like a fool for just now discovering that these are two great tastes that go great together.

The influences from WarioWare will be obvious to anyone who has played that long-running gonzo microgame series, but unlike those, the individual games in Rhythm Heaven Groove last much longer than a few seconds. After a short practice round to learn the rhythm and button prompts, you go into the actual performance that mixes together commands to the rhythm of a song. Almost all of your commands are mapped to the A button, but more complicated arrangements add one of the D-pad buttons for a different command. In an early game where you're driving a stunt car for a commercial, for example, the A button accelerates while the D-pad Down hits the brakes, so you need to alternate between them on command to stay aligned with the other stunt cars.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZdMwqKiSeEE

The WarioWare spirit shines through in both the art style--an eclectic blend of crude simplicity, chunky cartoonism, and occasional hyper-realism--and also in the gonzo spirit of the games themselves. The stunt car example is one of the more normal ones, but many of the games are downright bizarre. Across the breadth of Rhythm Heaven, you'll have to jump and roll as a cat doll, bounce fruits off your muscles as a bodybuilder, sort delicious pudding from tainted living pudding cups as a factory robot, and jump over windshield wipers during a rainstorm. The game frequently surprises you with new creative applications that all feel different, even if they're mechanically very similar. That sense of surprise meant that even when I didn't like a game as much, I loved seeing the creativity.

In addition to adapting to each game's rhythm, you also often have to contend with distractions in the background. The kitty-hopping game--Hop, Stop, N Roll--transforms the background from a simple wood-paneled design to a kaleidoscopic beach scene, so part of the challenge is keeping your concentration and the beat going while the world changes around you. When you learn to "read" the games, you also start to notice little signs about your performance, like your fellow performer in the umbrella-folding game shooting you a dirty look if your timing was just slightly off. 

Rhythm Heaven Groove

While the WarioWare influence is obvious, my time with Rhythm Heaven Groove also reminded me of another long-lost rhythm game: Elite Beat Agents. While no game has quite substituted for EBA's charm, mixing storytelling with pop songs and rhythmic touch screen taps, Rhythm Heaven Groove is similarly focused on nailing your percussive beats. The sound design has excellent feedback with a sharp, snappy snare that punctuates even harder when you nail a beat perfectly. Sometimes I would simply close my eyes to feel my way through the rhythm, and it worked just as well as watching on-screen. Everything has a sound cue, so this is one game you actually can play blindfolded. 

My absolute favorite aspect of Rhythm Heaven Groove, though, were the Remix stages. Each column consists of four stages, and they all feel varied as you're playing them and climbing the tower. When you reach the top, all four get remixed into one game, sometimes set to a real, credited J-pop song. At this point, all those games that seemed so different feel like different parts of the same whole, and you get to see them coming together. Sometimes a game will even fade into another mid-beat, showing you that you're actually keeping the same rhythm across both. It's a very cool magic trick. 

That said, the mapping of commands onto the D-pad would occasionally trip me up, because it wasn't always the same D-pad button across each game. Since the Remix stages start without any warm-up time, I would sometimes finish a set of stages and come back to do the Remix later, only to discover I had completely forgotten which D-pad button to use. Aside from trial and error, the only solution is to quit out and find the individual minigames, and then redo their practice modes as a reminder. It's not terribly intuitive, and there's not any particular reason the D-pad prompt couldn't just be consistent throughout all of the minigames. Yes it's a little more elegant that D-Pad Left triggers a crab claw and D-Pad Down hits the car brakes, but would it really matter if they were the same? On that one point, the game became less about rhythm and more about memorization, which undermined the fun. 

Rhythm Heaven Groove

And as much fun as it was in handheld, I struggled with playing Rhythm Heaven Groove on my TV. To its credit, the game recognizes when you've hooked it up to your TV for the first time and conducts a quick calibration game in an effort to reduce the effects of lag. But even after going through that, I struggled to hit my marks across several games playing on my TV with a Pro Controller, even in games I had already mastered in handheld mode. The game does note that some TVs just behave differently than others, so your mileage may vary.  

Those same struggles with TV lag may have impacted my multiplayer experience, but not enough to detract from the fun. I dabbled in all the games with my two kids of varying ages, and after some early struggles, we found a handful of favorites that created the kind of raucous party atmosphere that Rhythm Heaven is obviously going for. There's a great mix of competitive and cooperative game types, and unlike the single-player columns that offer different games as you climb, these offer new twists on the games you've already mastered. We were only playing with two players at a time, but it fills in the extra spots with bots regardless of your player count for a total of four. As long as you have at least one buddy, you can play all of the multiplayer games.

So many of the multiplayer games are strong that it's hard to pick favorites, but a few stand out. A virus-busting game shoots a disease through tubes, so you have to pin them with precise timing as they come, and your position in the four quadrants of protection rotates each turn. A tennis game imitates an RPG as you lob balls to defeat approaching enemies and save a prince. Cake Wait revolves around waiting until exactly 3 o'clock to grab the single slice of cake on the table, testing your ability to count down on-tempo. An Arkanoid-like arrow-shooting game has you break bricks protecting a bomb as you race to be the first to hit and detonate it. There is even a card-flipping memory game, but instead of pictures, you're matching particular drum rhythms as displayed by toe-tapping chickens. All of these are delivered with the same goofball spirit as the rest of the game, which makes it disarmingly funny. 

Rhythm Heaven Groove

Still, multiplayer lends itself to the big-screen experience of a TV, and we did occasionally find it hard to master the timing in some minigames. One of the first, in which you pluck hairs from an onion, consistently tripped us up, even after going back to it once we had performed much better on some of the other games. It's hard to say if this was due to TV lag or if that particular game is just surprisingly strict, but it was a noticeable change from the kooky fun of the others to consistently failing out of that one.

Nintendo is one of the biggest and oldest game publishers in the world, so it feels strange to say that something it made carries itself with indie sensibilities. But that's always been true of WarioWare, and by extension, it's true of Rhythm Heaven Groove. It's such a strange, low-fi game that it comes off as if the team is getting away with something while the boss isn't looking. But it's also a genuinely welcome addition to my Switch collection, because it's such an oddity. Whenever I feel the need to tap my toes while feeling the beat of a tadpole march, or invite my friends to compete in a foot race as lucha libre across giant bouncy balls, I'll return to Rhythm Heaven.

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Star Fox Is A New Beginning That Undermines Itself

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There's a reason Nintendo keeps remaking Star Fox 64. The N64 iteration of the rail shooter--at the time, the second Star Fox release--remains the apex of the franchise: a genuinely fantastic game that still holds up and stands the test of time. Subsequent sequels that have attempted to recapture the magic have floundered by comparison. This latest iteration, simply titled "Star Fox" for what I can only assume is meant to be a soft reboot, plays just as great as you remember and looks even better. But if you've already played Star Fox 64 in any iteration, it will be hard to shake the feeling of deja vu. 

For the uninitiated, or perhaps those who just learned about ultra-cool guy Fox McCloud from his spotlight-stealing cameo in the Mario Galaxy movie, Star Fox takes place in a galaxy called the Lylat system, composed of anthropomorphic animals with futuristic space-travel technology. Star Fox is a group of well-funded fighter-jock mercenaries who are regularly called upon by a military general, a dog named Pepper, to assist their space-combat operations. 

As established in an opening cutscene, some years ago Fox's father, James McCloud, was en route to investigate questionable activity on a planet named Venom, when his wingmate Pigma betrayed him to the mad scientist Andross. James was lost, his trusty wingman Peppy escaped, and Andross kept quietly assembling his army for an invasion of the rest of the Lylat system. 

That sequence establishes one of the major new features of this remake: fully animated cutscenes. And to their credit, these are very well-made sequences. The aerial stunts look cool while staying true to the original spirit where needed, and the voice acting has been updated to facilitate the expanded scope. The more realistic character designs were divisive when shown off earlier this year, but I felt fine with them from the beginning, and after spending some time seeing them animated in cutscenes, I've come to really appreciate the look. Their faces are nicely expressive and textures like fur give them a sense of realism, while still staying in the fantastical world of space animals. The vast majority of the cutscenes take place aboard their docking ship, the Great Fox, as they discuss strategy, but the characters are still given lots of characterization in their movements and gestures to express their perspectives and personalities. For example, Falco rolls his eyes a lot, because he is above all kind of a jerk.

A similarly heightened level of visual fidelity is present in the stages themselves, which look recognizable to their N64 counterparts without feeling too beholden to their jagged edges and geometry. While all of the stages look great, the upgraded style is most impressive when it shows off new flourishes that weren't available in the original, like the lighting effects of your lasers reflecting off of surfaces and illuminating dark caves. Star Fox 64 always excelled at stage variety, but this remake accentuates it by making each stage appear vastly different than the rest. I especially loved revisiting the stages that are major departures from the others, like the water world Aquas, the surface of the sun on Solar, or the wacky and kaleidoscopic Meteos wormhole. 

Star Fox

Revisiting all the areas takes at least a few runs because of how the stage layout has worked since the original. One of the coolest aspects of Star Fox 64, and again here, is the ability to carve your way from one side of the galaxy to another in a relatively freeform fashion, completing optional objectives. In broad terms, you can see the three paths as Easy, Medium, and Hard, but you aren't limited to one track. If you know how to find your way, you can easily hop between paths throughout, so you aren't committed to only staying on one difficulty track. Completing a hidden objective that opens the harder path will always let you switch to the easier one, but if you only complete the easier objective, you can't switch to the harder path.

In the original Star Fox 64, this was presented rather plainly, with a blue, yellow, or red line showing where you can go. In this version, it's given a good deal more panache, thanks again to the new extended cutscenes. Rather than simply present you with a choice of locations for your next mission, each mission starts with General Pepper debriefing from the last mission and explaining the strategic importance of both next possible locations. One might have a suspected bioweapon while the other is an outpost under attack. In each case Pepper outlines why Star Fox is the best or perhaps only available force to complete this mission. And since there's some overlap, as you could approach a planet from different directions, it's particularly impressive how these cutscenes stitch different pieces together without feeling noticeably disjointed. 

These all lead to the same outcome, of course. You're ultimately headed toward Venom no matter what, and it doesn't make a difference in the end whether you went to Sector X or Solar, but it does a good job of tying the journey together and giving each mission an appropriate amount of weight. Sometimes I even felt bad abandoning one planet in need for another, even knowing that it doesn't have any impact.

Star Fox

The extended cutscenes also help define the characters' relationships with each other and with General Pepper. Falco has always been portrayed as a cocky hotshot, but here we get to see him slowly warming to Fox's leadership. Peppy is the assured veteran who trusts Fox will come into his own as a leader. We even get some insight about why the team keeps Slippy around, as the cutscenes sell him as a machinist wunderkind who's always two steps ahead in anticipating their equipment needs. And Fox, for his part, is played as the cool Han Solo type--a mercenary needling General Pepper to pay for their valuable services, even if he's obviously going to do the heroic thing regardless. 

Wayfinding to new paths is a little easier this time around too. Dialogue will drop hints about what to do to open new paths, without being overly on the nose or spelling it out for you. If you miss an optional objective, it's easier to restart a stage from the beginning or from your most recent checkpoint, and doing so doesn't even cost you a life or eliminate your laser upgrades or bombs. You can even entirely complete a stage, see where it leads, and then go back and do it again immediately to try for another way. 

That said, I was surprised that each run through the Lylat system is treated as its own distinct game progression, just like the original. That means that once you finish the game, you'll need to start anew on Corneria and cut your path through from the beginning. This is true to the original, and I don't mind the faithfulness, to a point. But for returning fans who already know their way around, it would have been nice to have the option to track which paths you've already opened and let you jump back to planets, eventually creating a fully filled-out star map.

And while the updated visuals are often gorgeous, they do come with some trade-offs that take getting used to. For one thing, your targets are a lot less obvious with much more happening on-screen, visually, so it's easier to miss a flyer who gets away. In boss battles, weak points are less obvious than the glowing vulnerabilities of the original, and they don't flash as brightly when you land a successful hit to let you know that you're doing damage. And with the higher fidelity making everything look much more like it has weight and bulk, it's a little strange when a capital warship in Area 6 explodes like an empty cardboard box.

Star Fox

The other marquee feature of this release is multiplayer, which adds online play, and GameChat camera integration for animalistic avatars. Unfortunately, I wasn't able to try any of the pre-release online multiplayer sessions, so I'll have to reserve my judgments on that aspect until I can try it in a live environment. We'll update this review once we've been able to sufficiently test it out.

Star Fox is a remake, but it also appears to be an attempt at a reset. The franchise has never really found its footing, despite clearly having a lot of love from Nintendo. This story has always felt like a starting point, establishing the characters and hinting at their backstory. So altogether, this remake may be the best possible way to give the series a fresh start. At the same time, the original still holds up very well, and if you have Switch Online with the Expansion Pass, you can already play it. That makes this hard to recommend, which is a shame. If Nintendo means this to be a new beginning for Star Fox, retreading familiar ground undermines the effort.

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The Adventures Of Elliot: The Millennium Tales Makes A Strong Argument For Silent Protagonists

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In a relatively short time, Team Asano at Square Enix has made a name for itself. Between the Bravely and Octopath series, it has become known for taking a fresh look at retro RPGs by experimenting with new ideas and visual styles, creating games that feel both familiar and new. The developer takes a similar approach when it comes to The Adventures of Elliot: The Millennium Tales, an action-adventure RPG that emulates the feel of a top-down Legend of Zelda or Mana game but uses the studio's signature HD-2D visual style. But while the action and adventuring are well-crafted, a dull story and verbose characters have the unfortunate tendency of deadening the momentum.

The Adventures of Elliot takes place in the fictional kingdom of Philabieldia (try the cheesesteaks!), ruled by a kindly king and under the magical protection of his daughter. The area surrounding the castle grounds is beset by deadly beastmen and the princess' presence carries a passive spell of safety that keeps them at bay. Elliot is an Adventurer, an actual job title that appears to be some mixture of mercenary and wandering odd-job doer, and only Adventurers are known to travel outside the castle walls and brave the beasts. After a sinister duke discovers a method to go back in time to claim a powerful relic, Elliot follows him and thus begins hopping between different eras, going further and further back in his kingdom's history.

In terms of sheer mechanics, The Adventures of Elliot is a modest but welcome step forward for the genre. This HD-2D visual style works so well for a top-down Zelda-style adventure game that you would never know it had been created for turn-based RPGs. The combat is sharp and responsive, and the diorama-like presentation gives you a very clear idea of where the enemy threats are coming from. Elliot gets a wide variety of weapons, ranging from his basic sword to a heavy hammer, boomerang, and consumables like arrows and bombs, along with some less conventional weaponry like a spear or chain scythe. Each weapon has its own advantages and disadvantages in combat and as you find upgraded versions of each, they get stronger, charged effects that can have a big impact on the battlefield. Elliot also has a shield for blocking and parrying enemy attacks, adding a little more defensive nuance, and a dedicated jump, which is used for traversal and light platforming, especially within dungeons, but can also be used offensively depending on your build.

True to its classic inspirations, Elliot only features a relatively small pool of enemies, with palette swaps representing stronger variants with new abilities. But it manages to offer a good variety of fast-paced combat encounters as these enemy types are mixed together. Combat scenarios are quick and snappy so even though I could run past them when I was in a rush, I would usually stop to fight just for the fun of taking down some monsters. That's the mark of a strong combat system.

Shortly after beginning on his quest, Elliot is joined by Faie, a squeaky-voiced little fairy that only he can see and hear. She's his constant companion throughout the rest of the game, offering her own commentary and being a sounding-board for Elliot to think through his next steps. She also gains a number of magical powers, letting her light torches, teleport Elliot across gaps, and more. You can freely move Faie around within a certain radius of Elliot with the right stick, which makes her feel like a natural extension of Elliot's, and thus your, power set. Most of her powers aren't necessary to complete dungeons, but it's so much fun to "cheat" through puzzles with them, incentivizing you to explore the specially marked ruins that upgrade her powers. 

During the mirror dungeon, for example, I pulled a mirror to reflect a laser in a way necessary to solve a puzzle, only to discover that I trapped myself in a corner with a gap. However, thanks to Faie, I was able to teleport my way out of the problem. That may not have been the way I was meant to solve the puzzle, but it was nice that I had the opportunity to find my own way.

The Adventures of Elliot: The Millennium Tales

The dungeon design throughout the game is well-crafted, even if most of them don't feel particularly distinct. This whole game is homage to classics like the 2D Zelda games, and you can particularly sense that in the dungeons. They iterate with ideas like the aforementioned laser-mirror reflection dungeon, or a dungeon in which I had to raise and lower water levels. In each of these dungeons, the addition of Faie's ability set gives you more room for creative experimentation and finding clever solutions that may not have been exactly intended. 

Elliot can also enhance his abilities with Magicite, a very flexible upgrade system. Equipped Magicite can enhance your attack power, give passive bonuses (like increased hammer knockback), or change weapon properties (like giving you piercing arrows or a second boomerang to throw while the first one is still out). Each piece of equipment has its own Magicite box with a certain amount of slots, and you can both find pieces of Magicite in the world or turn in fragments to get random ones, gacha-style. After you've upgraded enough, your total level goes up and you get even better Magicite, so it's always worth it to be on the lookout for fragments. You can really get into the nitty-gritty of managing Magicite to optimize your build, but if you don't want to worry about it, there's also a quick-command option to let Faie create a build for you, which she does decently well to make a balanced set.

There are also accessory slots, which can change your style in even more meaningful ways. Accessories can provide several different perks, such as preventing you from getting stunned, creating a shockwave that stuns enemies whenever you land from a jump, or turning every tossable object into a bomb. I found one that gave Elliot a hovering effect on his regular jump and kept it equipped for the entire game because it was so helpful to the dungeon platforming.

And then there are just thoughtful convenience features that help modernize and sand off the rough edges. Sidequests are clearly marked with a visual indicator and a dedicated menu showing the character it centers around, and you're given ample warning if the next step in a story quest chain will nullify an ongoing sidequest. As you discover more eras, you'll often have to jump back and forth between them, which is easy because there are guideposts littered throughout the map in every era. And while waypointing can be a little difficult due to winding pathways, the overall map layout remains relatively similar in each era, which helps you to keep your bearings.

The Adventures of Elliot: The Millennium Tales

As I've been playing The Adventures of Elliot, though, I've been thinking a lot about the trope of the silent protagonist. Classics like The Legend of Zelda have been known for their hero being remarkably quiet while the action occurs around them. Much has been said about this particular odd remnant of early video games, but in Elliot we can see an example of what it's like to have that type of character written with a voice. 

Elliot is remarkably earnest, even hokey, and everyone who knows or encounters him comes away feeling that he's just a swell guy. His personality often borders on feeling cloying and treacly. But at the same time, a character like this almost has to be written this way, because how else do you justify his status as a wandering do-gooder? Sometimes other characters hint at Elliot being a mercenary and taking payments, but it's clear that he does most of his work pro bono, or accepts whatever people can offer. So instead of a Link-like character who accepts his fated quest with quiet dignity--onto which we as the player can map whatever internal motivations we want--we have to stop and listen to exhaustive explanations that don't add much interesting shading or texture to the character. What does Elliot want? To be a helpful, great guy. What does everyone think of him? That he's a helpful, great guy. This type of character is mostly a cipher, so they make him utterly good-natured and well-liked and wise, instead of simply silent.

But it's not just Elliot. Faie is equally chatty and her tone is even more sickly sweet than Elliot,  though you can toggle an option to make her chime in less during your exploration. And almost every quest-giver you encounter explains their motivations and their own stories in exhaustive detail. The classics that inspired Adventures of Elliot were forced into an economy of language and would get their points across with a few sentences or a paragraph at most. Without those limiters in place, these cutscenes feel overlong and overexplained. They also often stop to slowly pan over to show a point-of-interest nearby. Checking in to advance the story between dungeons just slows the pace to a crawl. 

Adventures of Elliot also struggles to really capitalize on its time-hopping premise, largely because its different time periods are so nebulous. The concept appears visually and thematically inspired by Chrono Trigger. But one element that made Chrono Trigger's era-spanning story work so well is that it mapped more-or-less recognizably onto actual historical periods. You begin in a pastiche of rural modernism with burgeoning machines, travel back to something like the Dark Ages, and forward into the archetypal post-apocalyptic future. Those were marked with years to give us a sense of space and change--only 400 years passed between the dark ages and the modern era, but 1,300 years between the modern era and the apocalyptic future. When you travel to the age of primal humans and dinosaurs, it's millions of years instead of hundreds. The variance helped to establish the profound differences in time periods.

The Adventures of Elliot: The Millennium Tales

Adventures of Elliot's time periods are more vague. We explore four time periods in total that help us understand the essential sequence of historical events in this world as we travel further backward. There was a great magical society that collapsed into ruination. The modern (default) era from which Elliot hails has recovered largely due to the influence of a great king, but none of the periods map cleanly onto real-world history, and they aren't separated by clearly defined spans of time. The map remains largely the same, which is helpful for navigation, but it also makes it feel like not much has changed in this world over long stretches of time.

There are moments where the idea of an adventure spanning generations shines through. One side quest showed a bar owner treating his employees poorly until I went back in time and accidentally taught his ancestor about basic kindness, and then I got to see that lesson passed down through the generations and impact the future. Moments like that, and occasional story beats that I won't spoil, did remind me of how you could see your actions echo through time in video games like Chrono Trigger. The Adventures of Elliot just doesn't reach quite the same heights.

The Adventures of Elliot: The Millennium Tales is a surprisingly strong first attempt at reaching into this genre from a studio not known for it. The combat is snappy and fun, with loads of build customization and ability tailoring to your style. The dungeon designs are well-crafted homages that allow room for creative problem solving, and the HD-2D visual style is lovely for this type of game. I was left wanting for a story I cared more about, with characters that were more three-dimensional, in a world that felt alive and took better advantage of its time-travel concept. Those factors make the game fall short, but it creates a foundation that I hope Square Enix builds upon.

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