Coupled with the timeless charm and humour of SpongeBob, The Cosmic Shake can be a lot of fun—just don’t go in expecting anything groundbreaking or especially polished.

That’s Taito Milestones‘ biggest problem: the missed opportunity to do really shed some light on the impact of the games it collects. These are historically significant games, but presented devoid of any of that historic context. Without that, and when almost every game is already available separately (and in an identical form, no less), saving a few bucks on a bulk-buy is the only real reason to pick this up. A collection claiming to be a celebration of the milestones of one of the most important companies in arcade history needs to be more than just a way to pinch pennies.

Unfortunately, a cute and thoughtful story isn’t enough to distract from Sword of the Necromancer‘s other struggles. There’s a competent action RPG in there, but it’s lost beneath a misguided attempt at a roguelike experience that misses most of what makes roguelikes exciting. Even something as unique as a system of reviving slain enemies to fight alongside you gets lost in the narrow constraints of the game’s other systems, resulting in a largely forgettable experience.

With its vibrant art style, playful atmosphere, plenty of cleverly-designed levels to solve, and some interesting, if uneven, new ideas at play, Drawn to Life: Two Realms is an enjoyable game, but it never quite manages to capture the magic of its predecessors.

That’s the running theme through Don’t Forget Me: fantastic ideas that never get taken to their fullest. It’s a cyberpunk story that dives deep into the timeless question about whether freedom is worth sacrificing for peace and happiness, about whether freedom without peace is truly peace at all, and vice versa. A puzzle system built around navigating people’s memories using keywords turns the storytelling itself into part of the game in a fascinating way. But the full potential of gets lost in the brevity and abruptness of the experience; Don’t Forget Me is a compelling game full of unique ideas, but one that feels a little incomplete.

Like I said, it’s Curse of the Sea Rats’ atmosphere and art style that really carry it: if you can tolerate some less-than-stellar writing, this game delivers on Redwall-esque “rodent fantasy” adventure with a pirate twist. Underneath that is a metroidvania that hits the right foundation but struggles to stand out, and lets some odd design choices and clunkiness get in the way of the exploration that the whole genre is built around. There’s still fun to be found here, but in such a crowded field full of creative twists on the form, Sea Rats struggles to leave a lasting impression.

R-Type Final 2 is a worthy revival of an iconic shoot-’em-up series, with plenty of ships to unlock and exciting new levels to explore. But with performance struggles that can create unfair, unexpected failures in a game that’s already pretty challenging to begin with, Switch isn’t the way to play this one.

Saints Row’s dynamic mission design and chaotic vehicular gameplay do wonders for an otherwise mundane open world experience, one that is sorely missing the iconic characters who brought the previous games to life.

Ultimately, that’s what How Buddy’s Parents Met is: an enjoyable collection of jigsaws that come together to form a sweet little picture book tale of two people falling in love (and the cute cat who gets to bask in that love). It’s simple, relaxing fun—nothing more, nothing less. Sometimes, that heartwarming comfort food is all you really need.

Death Stranding: Director’s Cut is a solid remaster with smart upgrades that build upon the original release without taking away from what made it a unique experience. The game itself has a lot to say and some of it is genuinely compelling, however, the pacing is abhorrent and the core gameplay is a deadly pill made out of tedium and boredom, that I really wish I hadn’t swallowed. Let’s hope I’m a Repatriate.

It’s an intriguing game in concept, with an abundance of eerie atmosphere and some clever ideas at play, but it struggles to reach its true potential. If you like the sort of moody puzzle games that Darq follows in the footsteps of, the couple of hours you’ll spend in Lloyd’s dreamworld are certainly worthwhile, but this is a nightmare that, strangely enough, feels like it’s over too soon.

Cathedral is a competent metroidvania, made by a team that clearly loves the genre and knows well what makes it tick: it’s got a huge, detailed map to explore, full of secrets to find and upgrades that give you fun new ways to navigate the space. But it’s also an unremarkable game in a saturated space, and one that gets in its own way to often. Cathedral is an enjoyable enough game that will scratch that exploratory itch if you’re the sort of person who can never get enough Metroid (guilty!), but it won’t have much appeal beyond that niche.

There’s a definite appeal in its cozy atmosphere and oddball characters, and the story about a community banding together to save what’s important to them is a heartfelt one. The minigames are a lot of fun, and what they lack in the precision you’d expect of a full-fledged arcade game, they make up for in sheer charm. But it’s also a game that leans a little too heavily into the quirky style of the “wholesome game” meme at the expense of substance and depth.

I just wish it did a better job of fully realising the possibilities of virtual reality. Layers of Fear VR manages to ramp up the terror and intensity thanks to the sensory overload and isolation inherent in the medium, but it’s held back by awkward controls that serve as a constant distraction and detract from the atmosphere that the original game did such a good job of creating. Layers of Fear is a riveting piece of psychological horror, but the VR version falls short.

Aspire: Ina’s Tale sets itself apart with stunning visual design and a story that, in knowing exactly when to leave things unsaid, encourages reflection just as it does adventure and excitement. It’s vivid, brimming with little details, but also leaves the door open to personal interpretation. It’s a shame that the game itself can’t reach the same heights, though, with lacklustre puzzle design and lots of little frustrations that get in the way of Ina’s inspiring tale, rather than enhancing it.

There are moments when Slipstream finds a groove, everything clicks into place, and it just feels good. Disregard the actual objectives of the game and just enjoy the ride, let the Out Run vibe wash over you and get lost in the moment, and it can be enjoyable, as a sensory experience. As a game, though, it’s infuriating: not a tough but worthwhile challenge, but the sort of difficulty that feels specifically designed to be unfair, even on its easiest settings. There’ll be some who relish that sort of archaic design, but for the most part, it just holds back what is otherwise a beautiful game and an impressive feat for a solo developer.

Pokemon Brilliant Diamond and Shining Pearl may be the weakest entries in the series yet, and it’s a testament to the franchise’s solid foundations that I liked them at all. Their cheap graphical presentation is salvaged by a combat system that, despite its lack of innovation, has been steadily refined over twenty-five years. Thankfully, there are two other Pokemon games on the Nintendo Switch, so you can play one of those instead.

Edge of Eternity is tough to recommend—which is a real shame, because the potential and ambition here is clear. There’s some entertainment to be found in its combat system and the sense of wonder in its more impressive zones, but it’s held back by a lack of substance once the sense of wonder starts to wear off and a woeful story.

That’s not to say Breathedge doesn’t have its moments. It can be genuinely funny when it lets itself, and once you reach the point where the survival aspects start to open up and oxygen management becomes less of a pain, it even starts to get a little fun. But the journey to that point is too long and too laborious, and as soon as Breathedge finds its groove, it cuts away to a particularly unsatisfying end.

At times, Where the Heart Leads crafts an interesting narrative on the complexities of family relationships, and how the decisions one makes can have consequences. I enjoyed the plots between Whit and his immediate family members, and the possibilities his decisions can create that might benefit everyone—but much like real life, the game also reinforces the concept that you can’t please everyone, and the story plays out as such. But being inundated with other characters that I felt I had to talk to, and text that felt needlessly drawn out, evolved the dialogue-heavy game from a customised narrative into a bit of a chore. Where the Heart Leads is a game with its pros and cons, so it’s hard for me to veer my review of this game from middling.

How much you get out of Where’s Samantha? is going to depend on your tolerance for its clever but unyielding approach to puzzle design. It’s got some clever ideas, and if you find satisfaction in finding cryptic solutions, you’ll enjoy what’s on offer here. But little annoyances and a general lack of variety—despite the creative potential of the fabric-world theme—make it a less than satisfying experience for all but the most dedicated puzzle solvers.

This isn’t to say it’s not a fun game, it’s just a very generic one, with a standard premise (kid gets sucked into a videogame) and a basic fantasy world. It’s a stock-standard action platformer—nothing more, nothing less—and if you enjoy the genre’s no-nonsense fun and you’re not concerned at a lack of bells and whistles, you’ll like this one too. On the other hand, if you’re coming in expecting a metroidvania because the game’s own description calls it such, prepare to be a little disappointed.

All this makes Crisis Wing a game that will appeal to a very particular niche—there’s certainly an audience for shmups with a particularly old-school flavour like this one. But design that feels a little too constrained, a lack of features that are now standard even in retro-styled shooters, and a tedious approach to difficulty make it a tough sell, even within that space.

Gotham Knights is a game about stepping out of Batman’s shadow—not just for its troupe of caped crusaders, but for its developer too. While WB Montreal have crafted a solid action game that casts off some of Bruce Wayne’s looming presence, it’s just far too marred by extraneous loot systems, technical woes, and forgettable writing to wholly recommend. And given how cutthroat Warner Bros. has proven itself to be over the last few weeks—butchering entire networks and catalogues of shows with a hatchet man’s glee—I can’t help but feel that the game won’t get the support it desperately needs.

It’s clear that the developers at TripWire put sincere effort into the presentation and mood of Maneater, and far be it from me to dictate how they make games, but I can’t help feeling like the gameplay should’ve been a higher priority. The failures of Maneater are most heartbreaking to me because it’s so clear that the developers were in love with this premise. The tone here is pitch-perfect, but the realities of being a shark are pretty miserable.

Dying Light 2 is an experience rife with suffering, stemming from its dawdling progression, woeful narrative and intrusive presentation issues. In spite of these shortcomings, the parkour shines once the right equipment and skills are unlocked, salvaging a modicum of joy from this disappointing nightmare.

There’s an enjoyable game somewhere in Derelict Void. The concept of a space survival roguelike with light city-building and heavy resource management is intriguing enough, as is the premise of a whole galaxy just suddenly being dumped on the other side of space and its inhabitants left to figure out what’s going on. But that potential is lost amid lacklustre writing and an arbitrary approach to difficulty that revolves almost entirely around luck, making each outing—win or lose—feel pointless.

Hundred Fires: The rising of red star is not a good game by any stretch: a Metal Gear Solid clone that is, at best, functional. It replicates superficial details with a wink, but it’s far too clunky and lacking in substance to be enjoyable. And yet, I find myself morbidly curious to see where the bizarre story of a Cuban Solid Snake, a ghoulish JFK hologram, and a Kojima-lookalike weapons manufacturer ends up.

But whatever promise lies in those ideas is lost in the game’s fundamental flaws. Remote Life isn’t short on ambition, but without the precision, reliable hit detection, and sense of control that are so integral to a shoot-’em-up, actually playing it is a bigger nightmare than any of those extraterrestrial monsters.

Despite its impeccable art direction, New Tales from The Borderlands is ripped apart by its subpar, glacially paced narrative and miserably unlikeable ensemble.

Upon reaching the end of this review, I’ve come away with a revelation. Yes, Far Cry 6 is the accumulated chemical detritus from years of similar lab experiments, layered and stratified, compounded with time and pressure. But it isn’t a catalyst. I am. I played Far Cry 6 to completion: I pressed buttons to shoot guns and progress the plot; I killed an inordinate number of animals to buy upgrades; I equipped new pairs of pants to make myself stealthier. And at the end of it all, I felt nothing. I was unchanged by the experience.

The idea at the heart of Memories of East Coast—a solemn reflection on guilt and grief, told through the eyes of someone reconnecting with their tragic past—is a sound one, but it’s too underdeveloped and riddled with grammatical errors to come close to delivering on its potential. I admire the effort that goes into a solo project like this, but shelling out even for just a professional proofread, if not a full edit, would have gone a long way.

There’s a lot of promise in the more playful, “bikinis and water guns” breed of third-person shooter, but what’s here needs a lot more substance and refinement before it gets close to that potential. And when even the fanservice falls flat—cup sizes notwithstanding—there’s really not much else left.

I wish there was more to it—a tube-shooter-style racing game is an interesting concept, but it’s one that needs some solid design to bring depth and variety into the mix. Without that, the racing in Gravity Chase ends up being hollow: flying along a tube where normal race dynamics—cornering, braking, race lines, trying not to crash!—don’t exist and there’s nothing of note in their place. A well-made tube racer could be a lot of fun, but “go fast in what may as well be a straight line, and try to hit the blue pads while fighting deliberately unwieldy controls” is a long way off from that.