In one of Esoteric Ebb's chambers lies a chest. Above it, a sign: "Not a mimic." Snell, your goblin companion, deduces the most obvious outcome: The sign is the work of some prankster who's hoping to get one over on whichever unsuspecting rube decides to saunter into this secreted away room, ignore the sign, and loot the chest. Mimics are often "chest-shaped" like this--the game's joke, not mine--and seeing as how they are a trick as old as fantasy itself, it doesn't take a genius to piece together how such an encounter might end.

Esoteric Ebb is a lot like the mimic in this scene. It looks and sounds like things it takes the shape of--some more obvious than others--but delights in playing with expectations one might have of it. Just when you think you might have it figured out, it contentedly throws another wrench in your understanding of its tone and aspirations. It's a fun ride. It does not veer wildly off course in the process, but it is a stylistic and colorful detour that is nonetheless a riot worth your time.

In Esoteric Ebb, you are the Cleric, a bumbling idiot and magical savant sent by the magistrate to investigate the absolute hornet's nest that is an explosion of a tea shop in Norvik. The timing couldn't be any worse, since Norvik's constituency is voting on a referendum. Should it stick by the Urth-worshipping Nationalists who've governed and shepherded the city through its founding decades, consequently hardening the attitudes and beliefs that have called its rule into question at this very moment? Should it instead ally itself with the deep-pocketed Freestriders who are clearly strong-arming their way to a victory? Or should the city consider other policies, like the dwarven-born egalitarian platform of Azgalism?

In one of Esoteric Ebb's chambers lies a chest. Above it, a sign: "Not a mimic." Snell, your goblin companion, deduces the most obvious outcome: The sign is the work of some prankster who's hoping to get one over on whichever unsuspecting rube decides to saunter into this secreted away room, ignore the sign, and loot the chest. Mimics are often "chest-shaped" like this--the game's joke, not mine--and seeing as how they are a trick as old as fantasy itself, it doesn't take a genius to piece together how such an encounter might end.

Esoteric Ebb is a lot like the mimic in this scene. It looks and sounds like things it takes the shape of--some more obvious than others--but delights in playing with expectations one might have of it. Just when you think you might have it figured out, it contentedly throws another wrench in your understanding of its tone and aspirations. It's a fun ride. It does not veer wildly off course in the process, but it is a stylistic and colorful detour that is nonetheless a riot worth your time.

In Esoteric Ebb, you are the Cleric, a bumbling idiot and magical savant sent by the magistrate to investigate the absolute hornet's nest that is an explosion of a tea shop in Norvik. The timing couldn't be any worse, since Norvik's constituency is voting on a referendum. Should it stick by the Urth-worshipping Nationalists who've governed and shepherded the city through its founding decades, consequently hardening the attitudes and beliefs that have called its rule into question at this very moment? Should it instead ally itself with the deep-pocketed Freestriders who are clearly strong-arming their way to a victory? Or should the city consider other policies, like the dwarven-born egalitarian platform of Azgalism?

God of War: Sons of Sparta is a reasonably decent but not particularly great metroidvania spin-off that suffers from an identity crisis. A prequel set when franchise protagonist Kratos and his brother Deimos were coming of age in the Spartan army, Sons of Sparta lacks the over-the-top action spectacle of the other games in the God of War franchise. As a metroidvania it is middling and at times simply awkward, with a dearth of its own original ideas or excellent execution to liven up the genre. The result is a game that feels confused and muddy, despite a few bright spots.

Sons of Sparta takes place across two distinct time periods in the God of War timeline: an adult Kratos telling the story of his adventure to his daughter Calliope, before the tragic events of the first game earned him the nickname the Ghost of Sparta; and the story itself, which takes place when he's a headstrong but duty-bound teenager just starting to make a name for himself in Spartan warrior trials. That tale involves Kratos and Deimos encountering mythical beasts and monsters and cultists as they search for another missing teen, Vasilis. As the story progresses it becomes an interesting look at a foundational time in Kratos' life, though as a side story it does feel removable from the rest of the canon.

At the beginning, though, Kratos is not a very interesting character to follow at this point in his life. He's too rigid and committed to his duties and the rules. He can frequently be overly pious and condescending toward Deimos. The search for Vasilis carries as much weight as a Scooby Doo mystery--you'll get a clue to go towards a location, search around, and then Kratos realizes that he arrived a few minutes or hours too late. Aw shucks, you just missed him, but maybe he left to go here instead. There aren't many twists and turns; it's just following a wandering character around.

God of War: Sons of Sparta is a reasonably decent but not particularly great metroidvania spin-off that suffers from an identity crisis. A prequel set when franchise protagonist Kratos and his brother Deimos were coming of age in the Spartan army, Sons of Sparta lacks the over-the-top action spectacle of the other games in the God of War franchise. As a metroidvania it is middling and at times simply awkward, with a dearth of its own original ideas or excellent execution to liven up the genre. The result is a game that feels confused and muddy, despite a few bright spots.

Sons of Sparta takes place across two distinct time periods in the God of War timeline: an adult Kratos telling the story of his adventure to his daughter Calliope, before the tragic events of the first game earned him the nickname the Ghost of Sparta; and the story itself, which takes place when he's a headstrong but duty-bound teenager just starting to make a name for himself in Spartan warrior trials. That tale involves Kratos and Deimos encountering mythical beasts and monsters and cultists as they search for another missing teen, Vasilis. As the story progresses it becomes an interesting look at a foundational time in Kratos' life, though as a side story it does feel removable from the rest of the canon.

At the beginning, though, Kratos is not a very interesting character to follow at this point in his life. He's too rigid and committed to his duties and the rules. He can frequently be overly pious and condescending toward Deimos. The search for Vasilis carries as much weight as a Scooby Doo mystery--you'll get a clue to go towards a location, search around, and then Kratos realizes that he arrived a few minutes or hours too late. Aw shucks, you just missed him, but maybe he left to go here instead. There aren't many twists and turns; it's just following a wandering character around.

I audibly gasped. My small community of Pokemon friends had been steadily growing in the first hour or so of Pokemon Pokopia, and now Professor Tangrowth asked me to build a house and mark it as my own. I could even invite another Pokemon to live there with me, he said. You mean I can have a Squirtle roommate?! I built my new house as quickly as I could and invited Squirtle to come live in it, and he happily agreed. Childhood dream fulfilled.

A few days later, Squirtle told me he wanted to move out.

Heartbroken and with nothing to do to change Squirtle's mind, I pressed on. I was determined to learn more, earn more, and do more, so that, one day, Squirtle will come back. Someday I'll make a new house and I'll invite Squirtle to live with me again. Maybe he just wanted his own bedroom? Admittedly, the leaf hut is not a lot of space. Maybe he didn't like my decor at the time--a few items I had arranged slapdash to fulfill the housing requirements.

I audibly gasped. My small community of Pokemon friends had been steadily growing in the first hour or so of Pokemon Pokopia, and now Professor Tangrowth asked me to build a house and mark it as my own. I could even invite another Pokemon to live there with me, he said. You mean I can have a Squirtle roommate?! I built my new house as quickly as I could and invited Squirtle to come live in it, and he happily agreed. Childhood dream fulfilled.

A few days later, Squirtle told me he wanted to move out.

Heartbroken and with nothing to do to change Squirtle's mind, I pressed on. I was determined to learn more, earn more, and do more, so that, one day, Squirtle will come back. Someday I'll make a new house and I'll invite Squirtle to live with me again. Maybe he just wanted his own bedroom? Admittedly, the leaf hut is not a lot of space. Maybe he didn't like my decor at the time--a few items I had arranged slapdash to fulfill the housing requirements.