Banana Rumble is fun. I love playing it. I thought I was mostly done playing it until, about 300 words into this review, something unexpected happened: I got The Itch. I’d beaten all the levels, but I wanted to beat them again. I wanted to take a crack at the missions, which I’d largely dismissed as frivolous on my first run. I wanted to go for some records in time attack, especially pre-release, when the sparse competition would all but guarantee me a spot in the top 5. (As of right now, 6:03 a.m. on June 23rd, 2024, I have Giant Bomb’s Dan Ryckert beaten by two seconds on the world 1 leaderboards. Dan, if you’re reading this: your move.) The game works, in all the ways I expect it to. Maybe not in all the ways I want it to, but so what? Banana Rumble doesn’t need to be perfect. It just needs to be good. And for Super Monkey Ball, “perfect” and “good” are very nearly the same thing.

In a perfect world, we’d get one of these every few years, between bigger installments like Valhalla. After playing Mirage, I’d really, really love to live in that perfect world.

One of the great fallacies of children’s entertainment is that kids need things to be simple. Kids love diving deeply into complicated things, accumulating knowledge that is out of reach of the adults around them. Nintendo has always understood this, but Labo is a unique expression of this understanding, something that extends beyond the virtual world. More of a madcap engineering kit than a game, it feeds and rewards creativity and curiosity. As an adult, you’re along for the ride, but if you’ve got imaginative children in your life, seeing how they respond to this marvelous toy factory will be a great joy.

Maybe the world doesn’t need another zombie game in 2022, but I’m happy we got one, and I’m happy it’s the wickedly fun sandbox of Dying Light 2.

While I’m sure post-launch patches will spare most folks these headaches, it feels worth mentioning, on the off chance that it isn’t all resolved by the time ACT launches, that it’s definitely coming in a little rough, especially on consoles.

For now, though, all I’ve got to talk about is this original vision for Humankind, a game that promised to be revolutionary but ended up as a very good evolution instead.

Rain Code’s cases aren’t quite as elaborate as its predecessor’s, but they each had satisfying mysteries and an explosive human element at their core. Even when I would feel skeptical about a reveal, Rain Code would quickly point to a clue I’d long forgotten that tied things together. Some solutions might have felt farfetched, but within the world it established, these cases felt airtight and satisfying to solve, even when the conclusion was devastating to watch unfold.

I don’t think Tomodachi Life as a series is at a critical tipping point just yet. I’m still enjoying Living the Dream a lot, but the game’s focus on user-generated content seems indicative of the direction the rest of Nintendo’s cozy games seem to be heading in, too. Really, the problem with the game is spelled out in the title. When I’m playing a life sim that’s known for being an ant farm full of ups and downs, I don’t necessarily want to live the dream. I just want to live life.

Despite how pedestrian some aspects of the game may be, I concluded Quantum Break feeling like something new had happened. Something special had happened that more than compensated for some of the flatness of the story and the mostly rote gunplay. A game simply never worked like this before, nor has a TV show. Because of that, what might have otherwise been ordinary feels extraordinary.

The fall’s most exciting Final Fantasy game.

While I wish Back 4 Blood had a classic, stripped-down mode and wasn’t so annoying on harder levels, I’m still craving it. I still want to play it. I actually stopped writing this draft to load it up and play a few levels. You have to climb some hills to reach the fun summit of Back 4 Blood, but I think it’s worth it.

Arms is a one-trick pony. That one trick is polished and addictive, with deep minutia worth mastering. What makes it so eminently replayable is each battle’s constant and fluid power struggle; the ah-ha of dodging an opponent’s grab, jumping up and grabbing them; moving that opponent into a vulnerable corner with a boomerang arm; or the exhilaration of landing a slow, large “Megaton” punch. While Arms doesn’t play like a Mario Party mini game, it definitely could be one.

Still Wakes the Deep isn’t the most riveting interactive journey. The monsters are easy to hide from (though plenty scary), and the puzzles and platforming quickly come to feel tired. But Still Wakes does deal with compelling emotional material that rewards you for your time spent with it. It’s the kind of game I’d like to play again and see what new things I get out of it. But it’s also a testament to why I like this genre, the poorly-named “walking simulator,” so much. When I’m not focused on the reactive challenges of a more fast-paced game that demands constant input response, I’m instead offered the challenge of navigating the puzzles of my own thoughts. You know, where the real horror and dread lies.

Digimon Survive, the new video game made in celebration of the anime’s 25th anniversary, attempts to juggle being both a visual novel and a tactical role-playing game. The result is a slog of a game that’s 70 percent visual novel, 20 percent tactical role-playing game, and 10 percent horror; totalling out as a 100 percent waste of my time. [Impressions]

Call of Duty: Infinite Warfare is three very different games. It’s a character-driven military sci-fi action adventure with spaceship battles and a villain carved from the finest cedar. It’s a lighthearted co-op survival game with a bitchin’ period theme and some classic tunes. And it’s Black Ops III’s competitive multiplayer with a fresh coat of paint. I suppose it’s easier to push boundaries if you take them one at a time.

Even an XCOM that I’m not 100 percent clicking with is still better than many other games, and this is definitely still XCOM. I’ve once again fallen into that comfortable rhythm of “One more turn” followed by “Oh god, how is it already four hours later” followed by “...One more turn.” I’m still waiting for Chimera Squad to really wow me, but I’m not having a bad time waiting, by any means.[Impressions]

I’m impressed. Still, I think I’ll always want World of Horror to more widely embrace the minimalism it practices in moments so eloquently. I understand that ambient horror. I can live with it.

Like the South itself, South of Midnight is a messy, complicated, but often beautiful and passionate thing worth experiencing.

Ultimately, Solar Ash left me in similar standing as the protagonist: a little awed, a little confused, a little satisfied, a little frustrated, wishing I fully understood this thing that doesn’t want to be fully understood, that so badly wants to go where few have gone before, yet backs away moments before taking the leap.

Immortals impressed me. It’s an unexpected success, blending comedy and condensed open-world gameplay into one of the most entertaining games I’ve played this year. Even if the combat lacks some variety and the main quests are a bit stale, the rest of Immortals is fantastic. It takes the modern open-world game and compresses it into something easier to enjoy, covering the whole thing in colorful art, great humor, and a ton of puzzles. If, over the years, you’ve found yourself getting bored of big open-world games that strive to look hyper-realistic and feature 200 hours of quests, Immortals might just be the perfect alternative.

If you have never played The World Ends With You before, the Nintendo Switch version released on Thursday night is not a bad way to get into it. Final Remix retains the game’s great sense of humor, its fantastic music, and Tetsuya Nomura’s most restrained character designs. But if you have played it before—say, if you’re a big fan of the original 2007 Nintendo DS version, like me—you will most likely be disappointed by the Switch port.

The end result is one of the weaker remasters in Double Fine’s catalog. It doesn’t reach the operatic heights of Grim Fandango, and it lacks the memorable puzzles of Monkey Island. Full Throttle is a rough and tumble game full of affection for the open road. It’s a fun time full of fire, stunts, and fury. The remaster is a solid preservation of a classic title with some unnecessary additions.

But more than anything, I disliked Season’s belief in its own profundity. Its mysticism felt like cod-Buddhist leftovers, while its nonchalant efficacy of prayer undermined its attempts at agnostic universalism, all crushed under the weight of the sheer banality of all your actions being delivered as if creating a vital tome of historical significance.

While I’ve had a wonderful adventuring in Bravely Default II’s familiar but streamlined JRPG world, it is not of the faint of heart, or those who aren’t ready to get deep into the details of stat math and build synergies. And even then there are more than a few rough edges to catch a frustrating splinter on while playing, something I also did literally when grinding battles in-between doing demolition on my kitchen pantry. Also the game’s sidequests are mostly terrible, but more on that in my full review. [Impressions]

Wait for a sale or go pick up a used copy of Mario Tennis Aces instead.

Tacoma ultimately succeeds as a piece of emotional storytelling. Every moment spent with the crew is spellbinding, as their strengths and struggles play out in painful detail. The experience is sometimes frustrating, but Tacoma leaves a lasting impression.

And sure, it doesn’t always succeed. Its unwavering commitment to the RoboCop power fantasy limits its narrative at times and it suffers from bugs and pacing issues. But it mostly comes together to create a game that, thanks to its slower, more methodical combat, feels unique and different from most other shooters released in the last few years. So while it won’t win awards for being the best, it certainly won’t be forgotten anytime soon.

Sable imagines identity and growth as playful, joyous, and nearly impossible to fail. It promises you that changing your mind is okay. You wanted to be an Innkeeper, and now you don’t. It encourages you to become something else then, without rejecting or hating the person you’re leaving behind.