I don’t think anyone wants games like this, really. It’s lovely to have games that can feel like entire worlds, but they take approximately ten billion times longer and require many more people to work their fingers to the bone, and then when they come out people say they aimed too high, stretched themselves too thin. I hope that, in the years to come, we get to see games that scale themselves back to focus on the filigree.

If your temperament can bear the ceaseless cycle of death, Outlast 2 rewards you with one of the most twisted horror stories ever encountered in a game.

Setting decapitation against the backdrop of jaunty, big band renditions of holiday classics is at least a new twist on the same idea, but it’s a temporary fix at best. Dead Rising 4's saving grace is its Christmas setting – the strange mix of mayhem and holiday cheer gets more mileage than you'd expect. But it also signals that this series might be on its last legs.

The Nintendo mobile game feels like an Animal Crossing game and an extension of the franchise, but like my hometown, it’s changed—and that’s not always for the better.

If Farpoint were a regular non-VR game it would be unremarkable at best. As a VR experience though, and as a demonstration of the effectiveness of a gun-shaped prop in virtual reality, it represents a ballsy, if embryonic, attempt to try and push things forward. It's experimental and – as something that tries to be a fully-fledged multi-hour "blockbuster" action game – is unusually daring for this period in VR. While we certainly won't ever look back on it as one of the great shooters of all time, we may come to look back at it as significant landmark in VR games.

The mystery, the wonder, and the challenge that have made Souls a durable gaming institution all feel a bit abbreviated in Ashes.

Even if it were possible to get lost in Andromeda, I can't imagine wanting to; no matter how gorgeous the game's vistas may be, they exist largely to be exhausted and, as a result, give off a sense of emptiness, not possibility. This would be a disaster for any open world, but for a game in which you supposedly play a "Pathfinder," it's fatal. Andromeda is a game about exploration that gives you no space or reason to explore.

This love letter to 'Banjo-Kazooie' feels rushed, despite nailing the wit and sharing talent with the original.

Will a child notice or care about issues like dropped frames or screen tearing? Perhaps not. But they'll definitely let you know how they feel when the game decides to freeze and reboot itself in the middle of working on a half-constructed castle, skyscraper, or some other masterpiece. With that in mind, I'd humbly suggest that your time would be much better spent on an honest-to-goodness Lego set instead. You can thank me later.

The slasher genre's always fascinated me when it comes to the movies. Smart, self-conscious stories that subvert our expectations – films like Scream (1996), You're Next (2011), and Hush (2016) – serve as reminders of the essential purity, and limitations, of the slasher flick. By setting the stage and then forcing the actors to improvise, Gun's Friday the 13th feels like the next bold step in that evolution.

There's something deeply unsettling about how enjoyable this game is. It's a reminder of why, despite their timeless resonance and narrative potential, it can be hard to admit how much we love a good horror movie. However, Friday the 13th: The Game doesn't give you many chances to stop and dwell on the grotesqueries. Most of the time, you're simply having too much fun to care. The thrill of the chase, the primordial impulses of cat and mouse, the satisfaction as you land that last fatal blow – it's a genuine delight to experience in a group setting, with everyone wearing a headset and communicating, or taunting Jason, as you work together to round up a can of gasoline, car keys, and a spare battery to just get the hell out of there.

Never mind the staggeringly meta cynicism on display: has gaming ever delivered something so damningly precise?