There’s so much happening during the action that you learn to focus on the centre of the screen, relying on reflexes and peripheral vision to take it all in simultaneously as the scene explodes. Saros asks a lot of you – you’ll strafe until your thumbs hurt – but it taps into something primal, pulling you into a flow state where even a screen full of flaming orbs spat by towering hostile aliens no longer seems that big a deal.

Despite its sparkling near-future setting, Pragmata succeeds because it feels like a throwback to gaming’s recent past. It’s a beautifully made, heartfelt single player adventure with a novel combat idea, and it prioritises storytelling and atmosphere. Where attempts at heartwarming games often come across as off-puttingly saccharine, Pragmata pulls off its father-daughter relationship with surprising deftness.

If Life Is Strange were a Netflix series, I would probably have stopped watching it a few episodes in. Instead, it’s a game I’ve been playing for more than a decade, and I care about these characters. (I also appreciate that more than a smidge of the original’s millennial cringe remains: a Foals song plays over the credits.) Life Is Strange has always been corny but it has also always been earnest, grounded in friendship and feelings. Max and Chloe deserved this chance to end their story – and so did we.

I started playing one afternoon and didn’t stop for nine hours. The interlocking systems, the pleasing pace, the ebb and flow between Olympus and the mortal realm are almost hypnotic. Every time you reach the end of a day cycle you think “just one day more”, and then it’s two in the morning and you’re still trying to grow a pumpkin for the upcoming festival of Demeter, or setting a trap for a monster in the forest. Expertly and lovingly crafted, Mythmatch is a lyrical poem about beautiful and rewarding game design.

Pokopia turns out to be huge, and unexpectedly complex. As new zones opened up beyond that first wasteland, I realised that this game was probably going to occupy me for as long as I wanted. (With 300 Pokémon to catalogue, the conclusion of the story need not be the conclusion of the game.) This is not a child-friendly Poké-painted simplification of the life-simulation genre, but instead an accomplished celebration of it, borrowing the best of all its many influences.

Requiem has had so many clever set-pieces, tense chases, and joyfully gruesome encounters by that point that it’s easy to forgive it simply running out of ideas. Capcom has been on a hot streak for a while now, so it’s no shock that Requiem delivers. But it’s a very pleasant surprise that Resident Evil still feels this vital.

From Life Is Strange to Undertale to Knights and Bikes, independent games have proved a rich and evocative medium through which to explore the theme of friendship. Pieced Together is another example, a careful, beautiful little game that, in more ways than one, turns nostalgia into art. After finishing it, I was inspired to contact an old pal I haven’t spoken to in ages and wasn’t sure I ever would again. Good games can be like good friendships: they encourage us to see things anew.

The most fun you’ll have is playing with a bunch of friends in the same room, but there’s also an online mode which offers ranked or friendly games. However you choose to play, the game exudes childlike charm while hiding layers of depth beneath its chaotic exterior. You can spend hours practising perfectly timed drop shots, mastering spin and getting your positioning just right, and figuring out which fever rackets best suit your style of play is an involving process. It is, in short, exactly what you want and expect from a Nintendo sports title – something for everyone, and then something more for those who decide to go pro.

Mewgenics is built to fill every moment you’re willing to give it.

There were many moments of beauty and terror during my ascent that left me quietly awestruck. That awe, in the end, was proportional to the hardship.

Just as the fictional maker of the archive fell under the spell of these records and materials, I too was seduced.

The Ivalice Chronicles is not interested in narrative flexibility; its plot does not bend to the whims of the player like other RPGs. The story’s framing – recounted as a historical account in the distant future – makes this abundantly clear. As such, the game is less about fantasy and fairytales than history itself. Forget easy resolutions: here, events simply produce yet more events; trauma begets trauma. It is one battle after another for Ramza and his comrades.

Arc Raiders isn’t just fun to play. It’s a straight-up shot of serotonin.

Times have changed, and Simogo has expanded beyond Flesser and Gardebäck as their ambition has grown and brought them back to the realm of console games – such as the playable pop album Sayonara Wild Hearts, and their puzzle-mystery magnum opus Lorelei and the Laser Eyes. The brief, heady days of App Store brilliance are over; the world that allowed Simogo to flourish is now extinct. How fortunate it was that Simogo got the chance they did; that they’re still with us, and able to assemble this inspiring little collection we can play in perpetuity. These games, in all their varied playfulness, are full of longing: for a lover, for meaning, for a chance to write your own ending. Play them and dream about a world where it all went differently.

The result is a skateboarding game of rare poetry. There is the poetry of the skating itself, the miraculous interplay of body and board rendered with aplomb. There is the actual poetry that accompanies the end of each level. Finally, there are the tender emotions that refract through, and seem amplified by every bailed kickflip in this surreal, shimmering take on hell.

I might have been disappointed by Metroid Prime 4 if it had come out in 2010. But now, after such a long break, I’m happy to return to this anachronistic way of playing: slow, laborious, sometimes annoying. It’s a reunion tour rather than a revival for the Metroid Prime series: some of the new material doesn’t hit but the classic stuff is still just as great as ever.

Whatever you think about the series and its problematic role in how the mainstream games industry works, how it is perceived and the types of communities it engenders, this is slick, thrilling entertainment. Nowhere else will you be blasting a giant robot in a corporate science lab one minute, and then playing a modern take on Atari’s Super Sprint the next. Value matters right now, and in this as in almost everything else, Call of Duty does not hold back. It is a maximalist paean to the ultimate, troubling truth of video game design – shooting stuff on a TV screen is a hell of a lot of fun.

And despite these issues, this is still Football Manager, with all of its delicious tactical minutiae to get lost in. Thanks to the modernised tactics and match engine, making the perfect tactical tweaks to kickstart a stoppage time comeback and silence those oh-so-confident home fans has never felt better. Football Manager 26 provides tangible feedback to your split-second decisions and lets you conceive fictional rivalries that can last for seasons. And when you beat Sunderland with three goals in the final five minutes, the thrill remains unsurpassed.

Sure, The Séance of Blake Manor is an autumnal treat filled with spooky scenes but it is also that most joyous of discoveries: a game that challenges, delights, thrills and educates in equal measure.

Most of all, this is that rarest of things: a horror game that actually has something to say. Rather than simply throwing jumpscares and black-haired ghost maidens at you until you submit, it uses rural mythology and superstition as a lens through which to examine the harms of patriarchy and the rigidly gendered expectations it thrusts on to teenagers. It also proves that the survival horror genre still has so much to give, 30 years after its inception. You must come to Ebisugaoka as soon as you can, and stay at least a week, maybe longer.

For the most part, Battlefield 6 is a brilliant return to form, a thrilling, almost operatic shooter experience, which manages to combine deafening combat with tactical subtlety. How it will fit into the modern landscape of hero shooters and battle royale blast-em-ups is anyone’s guess – it deserves a shot, that’s for sure.

This spiky, funny, and bracingly original game consumed a few laughter- and tear-filled evenings, and left memories that will stay with me a good deal longer.

This might be a straightforward tale at heart, but it has absorbed me more than any other historical action game. Even hours and hours in, I still feel a flicker of excitement whenever Atsu purposefully draws her sword at the beginning of a battle. I will be sad to see the end of it.

FC 26 remains a strong package, despite its deliberate choice to abandon authenticity in the online space. There are still numerous gamers out there who crave realism, even in competitive matches. Yet while this represents a step backwards for real football, it’s unquestionably a stride forwards in the field of fan service. This is not the sim Pro Evo purists have longed for – but as an esports collaborative between the developer and its community, Fifa’s third follow-up achieves the majority of its aims.

One of the joys of Hades II is getting caught up in the internecine discord among the dysfunctional extended family. But it’s ultimately about resolving conflict. Sure, not everyone has read the memo: Scylla, front woman of a pop-punk trio of Sirens, cheerfully sings about clawing out your eyes and drowning you in the dank depths of Oceanus. But even the likes of power-suited Chaos and grumpy Nemesis (so affronted by you effectively doing her job that she’ll sporadically show up to challenge you to a contest, before barricading a potential exit) can be won over with a gift of nectar – or ambrosia. The game’s ending, too, makes it abundantly clear that any fight against forces of oppression requires us all to play a part, no matter how small; that whether you go low or high, resistance requires strength that can only come from solidarity.

Snake Eater is a melodramatic delight, offering a brilliant introduction to – or excuse to revisit – one of gaming’s most gloriously idiosyncratic masterpieces.

Discounty is a valuable addition to the sorority of cozy, slice of life with a dream-job games. It goes a little against the grain, while still managing to hold your focus. While there is not a lot of romance in running away from your life to work in a supermarket, there is certainly a lot of good clean work to do, which still manages to feel like play.

I played using the touchscreen on my Steam Deck, which I found deeply pleasing and responsive compared to using the buttons, which were a little tricky. Decorating my tiny bookshop was great: discovering I could acquire a shop dog was a real joy. The local characters are quite a serious bunch and hold some old dramas and pathos – there is a sense of a lush, lived-in community unravelling secrets and context as the seasons pass by. It is the first new game I’ve found myself truly relaxing into in quite some time: the gameplay is rhythmic and mellow, and, dare I say it, genuinely cosy. Tiny Bookshop provides players with a job that doesn’t feel like a job but a lovely escape into words and stories.

Mocked by the clock and the whizzing sounds in your ears, Time Flies gets under your skin not only because it’s a clever puzzle game, but because it manages to break down its profound ideas into easily digestible nuggets of gameplay. By blending its thinky thesis with such playful mechanics, Time Flies supplies a lighthearted canvas for players to engage with existentialism for an hour or two. As you seek a sense of meaning for the fly by ticking off their ambitions, there’s plenty of room left for you to muse about your own.

I’m not sure Bananza has the same legs as Mario Odyssey. Where that game blossomed in a rich, post-credit endgame, DK lives more in the moment: moving ever forward, chewing through new ideas and never stopping to pulverise the roses. Come the game’s epic climax, he has smashed through concrete, rubber, watermelon, ostrich eggs, entire Donkey Kong Country homages, glitter balls – even the NPCs he’s trying to protect. If the weight of Switch 2 does lie on his shoulders, that’s just one more tool to bash a hole in the universe. His appetite for destruction is infectious.

Like the real sport, it’s about perseverance and repetition: when the combos started to flow again for me after a few hours, it felt so freeing. I still don’t think there’s a better skating game out there than old-school Tony Hawk’s, even after all this time – and there’s certainly no better time capsule of this pivotal moment in the history of the sport.

Of the many things Death Stranding 2 is trying to say, the message that comes to the fore is: you are never truly alone. Global disasters, big tech, even death itself – these things might abstract the way we connect to one another, but they can’t sever the connection altogether. Not bad for a game about delivering boxes.

It really is an impressively welcoming game, this, generous and detailed and unfailingly fun, different but with the same spirit. It feels like the culmination of something, a synthesis of different philosophies of fun that still nonetheless comes together. The Switch 2 itself does feel like a swish upgrade rather than an all-new console, so it’s a relief that its headline game shows that Nintendo still has a talent for reinvention.

With a real-life rule-change next year due to change the cars radically, Formula One currently feels like it’s at a generational peak, and F1 25 is so brilliantly crafted and full of elements that generate an irresistible mix of nailed-on realism and fantasy that it, too, feels like the culmination of a generation of officially licensed Formula One games. F1 25? Peak F1.

This is fascinating, formally daring stuff that, in its two-hour playtime, asks more questions about the nature of memory, simulation and identity than a dozen 100-hour epics.

This prequel takes a blunt force trauma approach to problem-solving and demon-killing, with a slower pace but more spectacular weaponry.

Drop Duchy is an extremely clever experiment in game design by combination, and with each new feature you wonder how on earth the team managed to balance all the spinning plates. There’s a reason why the rogue-like and deck-builder genres are so wildly popular: they’re compulsive, challenging and systemically fascinating, and each one adds its own little foibles to the collective rulebook. In the case of Drop Duchy, the foibles are worth the price of entry alone.

Boasting a unique world, challenging combat and great writing, this RPG has a lot going for it, if only it didn’t revel in its own mysteriousness so much.

The effect is like Stranger Things directed by Kelly Reichardt – a realist fantasy in which silence and ambiguity come to the fore. Lost Records is ultimately a game about love, grief and self-recrimination, and the different intensities of those forces as we age. By the end you miss the optimism and verve of those girls in the woods, as though you were one of them – and quite possibly, in a lot of ways, you were.

And then there’s the fact that Blue Prince has the best titular homophone in video games (sorry Fortnite). It’s a game about the blueprints of the Mount Holly Estate, and naturally a magical mansion like this has a story; it’s this, the family behind it, and the fantastical wider world in which they live, that will draw you to the 46th room and far, far beyond.

Few other games have done such a good job with this setting, as you run through lush bamboo forests before scaling ancient castle walls and sneaking inside to steal treasures. These moments of brilliance more than compensate for its weaker points.

Wanderstop’s cosy and cute exterior belies something much richer and much cleverer than I have seen in quite some time. It is a masterpiece in a cute disguise – offering the player a place worth visiting, staying and paying attention to.

It will only take a couple of evenings to reach the game’s corker of an ending, and Verity’s arc is supremely satisfying, as she goes from put-upon victim to master manipulator. Here, the public-school system serves mainly as a way to ingrain inequality, normalise bullying and encourage ruthlessness, and the only way to succeed is to beat the bastards at their own game. When the system is so rotten, what choice do you have?

Two Point Museum takes all the lessons from the previous games and builds on them to make a thoughtful and hugely entertaining contribution to the management sim genre.

You could pick Wilds up as a newcomer and have a tremendous time playing through the story. You could stop there and it would still be worth the price of admission. But I will be playing it for a LONG time yet.

In the background, the mystery at the heart of the game is subtly introduced and there’s much to anticipate from the second part. Mostly though, it’s the characters and their brittle relationships that stick with you. Three days after finishing the game I’m still thinking about them, worrying about them, inhabiting that old shack with them. Unless you simply refuse to indulge in emotional young adult drama, you will be right there, too.

The early hours feel like the playable equivalent of being sent to military school, and demand saintly patience – but it’s an investment that pays off. Much like in Red Dead Redemption 2 before it, I happily lose hours wandering around this vast simulation, curious to see what wonder and depravity I might stumble on. It’s telling that despite spending more than 115 hours in Bohemia, I have yet to roll credits on the main quest line. If you’re uninspired by the prospect of roaming yet another frictionless open world where everything comes easy, Kingdom Come: Deliverance 2 is a breath of fresh air – scented with just a hint of dung.

Civilization VII is very much the Civilization for now – deep and complex, but with an emphasis on human drama and achievement rather than the sweep of faceless units across a mathematical matrix. There are still few moments in video games as pleasing as building the Hanging Gardens, or discovering a bountiful new location for a town, or marching a phalanx of troops into a battered enemy capital. This game, which once almost cost me my job, will gracefully sneak away with hours, days and possibly months of your life. But then, nobody ever conquered the world in an afternoon.

Yet the characters are also the game’s greatest strength, and throughout they are expertly drawn, both literally (with comic book artist Guillaume Singelin once again providing some gorgeous portraits) and in terms of their compelling and heartfelt backstories. Despite its bleakness, the world of Citizen Sleeper 2 is full of compassion, and it’s a joy to return to the universe Gareth Damian Martin has created.

After a couple of frustrating hours trying to play with other people, it was a relief to return to the solitude of solo mode: just you and the mountain. Here, the only competition is yourself, and the only company is nature. A sense of calm descends. Everything is how it should be. Until you fall foul of a rock, again.

There is a simple joy in watching your score accumulate via outlandish multipliers, and while the physical aspect of the game is entirely passive, there is a world of strategy to be explored in figuring out the most beneficial arrangement of bumpers in the 55 spaces on the board. A deceptively simple, obsession-forming challenge, then, to start the year.

The result feels like being trapped in a Alejandro Jodorowsky movie – sinister, strange but beautiful and compelling. Everywhere you look there is some unsettling image, from skeletons lying on riverbanks, to bizarre children sitting alone in bus shelters and ferry canteens. The puzzles are shrewd and challenging, and the blocky discordant visuals make the whole environment feel like some sort of uncanny valley of the mind. If you’re looking for a very different sort of challenge, in a decidedly unnaturalistic open world, Grunn delivers much, much more than the sedate rural idyll it initially promises.

Mouthwashing is a difficult but engrossing experience, a work of surreal horror invoking the cinema of David Lynch and Dario Argento, but also extremely functional as a game, or at least a study of what games are and what they want us to do. That titles like this are still being made and have global distribution is one of the few bright spots in a depressing year for the games business. Book yourself in for a flight as soon as possible, you will and won’t regret it.

The city is so exquisitely designed, in fact, that it overshadows the rest of the game. Which is remarkable when your next destination is the Pyramids of Giza. Here The Great Circle shifts into a more traditional open-world mode, less intricate and holistic, with more siloed locations and objectives. That said, it does afford greater room to experiment with Indy’s abilities.

Stalker 2 is a strange, brave and sometimes broken paean to resistance in the face of overwhelming odds. It is utterly uncompromising in its vision, often to a fault, and envelopes you in its dark spell of science, violence and chaos. Certainly, if you loved Dragon’s Dogma 2, which similarly edged towards self-parody with its offbeat systems, eccentric characters and overall jankiness, you will cope fine with this game’s technical and narrative inconsistencies. Indeed, like the stalkers that inhabit its damaged world, you may shrug, improvise, and carry on. If you thought developers weren’t making vast, outlandish, utterly singular open-world games any more, you were wrong: they are. And some of them have been through hell to do it.

The crime scenes are so weird that you never know where this game is going to take you, but you’ll always have what you need to figure it out.

It’s a game to be picked at with a sense of leisurely satisfaction, as if working loose a complicated knot. The effect is gently soothing, in the way of a jigsaw, but, when it comes to arranging your artworks, a little more scope for creative flair.

In a year that has given us not one but three Mario-themed RPGs, I was ready to be underwhelmed by Brothership. Yet thanks to captivating combat, varied platforming and well-judged difficulty, Brothership not only lives up to my childhood nostalgia for this series, but improves upon it. It is an inviting serving of sun-soaked delight at the beginning of a gloomy November.

Black Ops 6 is the best title in the series for years. It’s still a maniacal first-person shootfest that many players will absolutely detest; no critics of games that glorify the military-industrial complex are going to be converted at this stage. The design team, though, knows its audience and serves them accordingly while doing just enough to move things forward and try some intriguing little segues. I would happily play a whole game in which I could customise the flamboyant safe house to make it more comfortable for my cute little family of spec-ops sociopaths; I would play a whole survival horror adventure set in the world that Emergence concocts. Nothing in this series has ever lingered with me as long as the nuclear bomb explosion in Call of Duty 4 – but these violent delights, I feel, have staying power.

The time I have spent in its company has been engrossing, eerie, and unexpectedly thought-provoking. Horror provides a skewed and shadowy lens through which to view our lives and learn new things about ourselves and the world, and it has been expertly utilised here. With love as its focus, Fear the Spotlight will do more than scare you.

As in Journey, surely now an ordained saint of artistically ambitious and emotionally resonant video games, that cleaved mountain always looms in the distance, beckoning you towards it. You do eventually reach it, in the dead of winter, beaten down, the world dying around you. I’m still thinking about what happened there. Rarely has a game made me feel so much in a few short hours. It will be some time before I feel ready to play it again, but until I do, I will be recommending it to anyone who’ll listen.

For Yu and Perry, it’s been a preposterously ambitious undertaking, multiplying the challenges and timings involved in crafting a single video game by a factor of 50. For us, the result is a gift of wild generosity, a demonstration of how much untapped creative terrain remains in even the crudest-looking video games.

EA Sports FC 25 is perhaps not the major structural leap forward that its predecessor was – it is, to use the classic phrase, an evolution not a revolution. To get the most out of its major new technical features, you’ll need to really dig down into the depths of the pre-match menu systems – and that’s not for everybody. Meanwhile, Ultimate Teams is as problematic as ever with its carefully greased compulsion loop of in-game purchases and micro-improvements to your fantasy squad.

The Plucky Squire is a moon-shot of a concept, and as the hours go by, it becomes clear that it’s trying to say something truly interesting about the importance of storytelling and the power of narrative. I would recommend seasoned players approach the first few hours with patience, as it takes a hot minute to find its pace. As the game evolves it becomes highly rewarding, even if the controls are a little finicky at times. The Plucky Squire is heartening, funny and impressive to behold: not flawless, but still a treasure of a title.

That feeling’s at the heart of everything, in fact. Beneath the smoke and spent cartridges, I Am Your Beast is playground warfare retooled as a sport. In this forest, on this battlefield, you get to perform acts of gruesome excellence. And if you can’t get it right first time, you’re always just a restart away from perfection.

Astro Bot is still the wonderful tribute to PlayStation history and hardware design that Astro’s Playroom was, but it has been given room to grow beyond a characterful tech demo and into the best platform game I have played in many years. Actually, it’s one of the best platformers I’ve ever played, – and, as a child of the 90s, I truly have played a tonne of them. PlayStation has been lacking a great homegrown family-friendly game since LittleBigPlanet, and Astro Bot is a worthy inheritor of that series’ playfully humorous legacy.

The game presents a formidable challenge, and most players should begin at the easiest difficulty level, where the laser bullets fall like a shower rather than hail, and you have a modest stock of lives that replenish between each of the game’s seven lingering stages. It is, at times, repetitious, and Cygni’s novel systems will no doubt prove divisive among the genre’s dedicated and often conservative followers. But for those who approach with an open mind and dextrous fingers, it remains a thrilling vision.

We are admittedly right at the beginning of The War Within’s two-year life cycle, but this is the best that WoW has been performing in years. While Blizzard will surely continue to grapple with Warcraft’s place in the modern gaming landscape, especially ahead of WoW’s 20th anniversary, the game feels more relevant than it has in a long time.

To look at Black Myth: Wukong purely through the lens of market sizes and tastes is a disservice that obscures the most critical fact of all: it’s a fantastic game.

A genuinely likable new lead and intense attention to the mythology of the Star Wars films made this a nostalgic thrill.

It’s a game in near-perfect balance, a lean and distinctly not mean ode to turn-based tactics that embraces the genre’s creative puzzling while repudiating its worst excesses. Tactical Breach Wizards lets you see the future, raise the dead, and burst through windows on a witch’s broom. Yet amid all that, its most powerful spell is empathy.

If The Crush House had simply been a smart and funny photography and cinematography game, I would have been satisfied and pleased – but it offers the player far more than that. Underneath the snappy text and playful design, it has a weird heart, too. It’s worth noting that the review build still had moments of glitchiness – however the strength of the idea and execution far outweighs any of the technical struggles. This in itself is remarkable: The Crush House is so much fun that even the slightly broken parts didn’t make me want to turn it off. It’s a fantastic way to spend the last few chill nights of summer – and the seasons coming up, too.

Video games, at their best, allow us to inhabit the lives of people who are different from us, or to assume the roles of protagonists in stories we have the power to shape, or fiddle with recreations of the systems that underpin civilisations. But they can also be a very silly little joke, shared among friends, which for 15 minutes or so make everyone love each other a tiny bit more.

In the future, when the subject of the funniest comedy games of all time crops up, the usual names will be there – Monkey Island, The Stanley Parable, Death Stranding (I’m kidding) – but now surely a new one will join them. Coal Supper has produced perhaps the first great abstract Yorkshire-based cartoon puzzler of the 21st century. Thank goodness.

It definitely exhausted my brain from time to time – now and then I was just shifting stuff around in circles because I couldn’t figure out how to make three blocks land on three separate switches at the same time, as the conveyor belt logic of the puzzles temporarily eluded me. But more often I felt locked in, darting around the levels and arranging them almost on instinct, feeling as if I was playing Tetris. Having reached the end of Jenna’s adventure, I am definitely done with block puzzles for a while – but rarely do you play a game that explores one good idea as thoroughly as this.

The ponderous, obscure pacing will not be to everyone’s taste, and you’ll need a powerful machine to reproduce the world as its creators intended, but – surprisingly, perhaps – Riven’s mystical power has only intensified with age. There is nothing else quite like it. And as many of us count the days until the summer holidays, here is a destination free of tourists, with plentiful vistas and a clockwork conundrum that, when solved, provides a revitalising blast of satisfaction.

Zenless Zone Zero is stylish, silly and exciting, and promises years of fresh stories and an endless conveyor belt of shiny toys to seduce you. You pay for it somehow, either with your time or your money, but for me at least, it feels like a fair exchange.

At a time when the big video game companies are focused on building video games designed to function like sport, with seasons and passes and never-ending fixtures designed to dominate your leisure time, what a joy to be presented with a game that is so intricate and contained. This is a perfectly made contraption, with a start, a middle and an end, intended to inspire joy and build culture, and not, mercifully, shareholder value.

F1 24 is really all about how its clever incorporation of real drivers into the career mode throws up an endless number of possibilities – just like the real sport hopefully will for the rest of this season and beyond.

Moonloop Games pulls off its artful attempt to elevate the humble twin-stick shooter.

Those tiring of Overwatch 2, Call of Duty or Counter-Strike, who want a fresh take on the format and have a penchant for Ubi franchises, have many happy hours of shooting, hiding and grinding for XP ahead.

There is a layer of kindness interwoven within the cruelty, implying that even the world’s greatest monsters were once human. In an increasingly divided age, this simple message of choosing empathy over hatred feels especially poignant. As monolithic megacorps shutter Bafta-winning studios, a game like Hellblade II deserves to be cherished. Who knows how many more such cerebral epics this risk-averse industry will produce.

Lorelei and the Laser Eyes is a riveting puzzle game, which uses its eerie visuals and elusive story as an intrinsic element of the experience rather than a mere design affectation. It is a game that asks subtle questions about the nature of creativity and play, and later it takes a breathtakingly meta turn that will thrill those who remember Kojima’s tricks in the Metal Gear Solid series. It is also a meditation on the troubled relationship between art and commerce, and quite frankly, there could not be a more timely concern for a video game to explore.

Eiyuden Chronicle stands as a monument to his singular design sensibilities, and a testament to the power of a determined community, both within the game’s fiction, and by its very existence.

The mystery of Crow Country was far richer than I had anticipated: the story is very completely drawn, and isn’t without a little levity and playfulness in the face of the darkness. I found the final sequences really bold – committed to the strange and unsettling all the way through, it certainly sticks the landing. Crow Country is far more than a pastiche of the giants of the PS1 era – it is a real triumph in and of itself.

It’s into this rich version of Sea of Thieves that the PlayStation 5 embarks – the latest in a series of Microsoft first-party titles coming to Sony’s machine. And what newcomers will find is an absolutely perfect translation of the current Xbox version, retaining the mannered visual splendour, with its stunningly authentic water physics, luminous sunsets and enticingly tropical islands. Experienced players will be able to quickly and seamlessly link to their Xbox accounts, while cross-play between the consoles and the PC is similarly painless. At the start of the game, you chose a boat (sloop, brigantine or galleon), invite friends from the list or select an open crew to play with strangers (Rare runs its own message boards to help players meet up and organise a voyage together), and you’re off.

Thirteen years is a long time to wait for a new tennis sim, but TopSpin 2K25 is worth it. If there’s one thing that this game teaches you, it’s the value of determined patience. Well, that and the fact that you can match pink Lycra with yellow sunglasses and look amazing.

Botany Manor isn’t a long game, but it is immersive and relaxing. There are fantastic, upfront accessibility options for players who struggle with the motion sickness that can often come with first-person gameplay. There’s a classic feel to it: it has touches of Myst, and The Witness, but none of their heaviness. The challenges are never too frustrating. It is a perfect two-night experience, a trip into a surprisingly sunny past, a story sprinkled with secrets that gently connect us to Arabella, but never weigh the player down. Though the story never lets us get too close to her, helping her to complete these measured, sophisticated puzzles is truly satisfying and peaceful.

If this review feels chaotic, then that’s a fair reflection of the game. It is mad, fun, fantastical chaos and I honestly love it. Before I started writing this, I had left my Arisen and her endearingly incompetent pawn in an ancient battleground patrolled by a dragon. We blasted it with a couple of ballista bolts, and then it flew over and crushed the ballista with a claw, at which point I realised we were somewhat outgunned here and ran for some castle ruins to hide from the creature. This seemed like a good idea until skeletal warriors rose from the ground, and I realised the castle is extremely haunted. I don’t know how we’ll get out of this situation. But I do know it will be an adventure.

You leave this stylish, compact and clever game feeling relieved to be free, but then an hour later as you sit at your computer answering endless work emails or grinding in some identikit live-service fantasy game, you have to ask yourself – am I really?

There’s a parable for sports franchises to follow here: taking a year off (as WWE did in 2020) can be a good thing. From the hilariously detailed character creator to the sensation of administering a German suplex, 2K24 hits its marks.

It’s a delightfully silly journey, and a rare example of a truly iconoclastic video game emerging from a sea of derivatives.

Longtime fans will hungrily slurp up every morsel of sugary fan service here, savouring every extra moment spent with this hugely beloved cast. For Avalanche-loving diehards, this is a miracle of nostalgia-stirring dream fulfilment. Newcomers hoping to experience one of the medium’s most beloved stories in its new, modern form, however, should be prepared for some yawn-inducing lows alongside many Buster-sword swinging highs.

The archeologist’s earliest adventures show their age in more ways than one, but this revival preserves enough of the games’ treasured elements to keep purists happy.

This is perhaps the most fun I’ve had from a pure co-op shooter since Left 4 Dead or the original horde mode in Gears of War – it is so precise, its gunplay so invigorating, its feedback and effects so generous. Everything about this game is ridiculous, including how good it is at what it sets out to do.

As someone who has played Tekken since 1995, who once smashed a PlayStation controller to pieces trying to beat Kazuya Mishima in Tekken 2 and who, as a young games journalist, often found himself in the Official PlayStation Magazine games room taking countless screenshots of Yoshimitsu’s Helicopter Stomp, Tekken 8 is an orgiastic pleasure. It is both familiar and new, eccentric and intuitive, and it does what all great fighting games do: it makes you feel incredible when you pull off an elusive series of moves to almost balletic effect. Tekken used to be dismissed as a showy poser by Street Fighter and Virtua Fighter veterans, its combos seen as over-automated and inexpressive. But later Tekken titles have added subtle layers of complexity, and now Tekken 8 wants everyone to see how that works...The King of Iron Fist tournament is calling. It is time, once again, to answer

Infinite Wealth takes a few curious steps backward, but it gets so much right and once again dedicates itself to goofiness with such aplomb that it’s impossible not to get swept up in it – a true vacation from the darkness and drama of yakuza life.

Visual and haptical enhancements along with bonus content including new modes, cut stages and audio commentary from designers make this a required experience.