For my entire life, sports games have lived under the shadow of a particular criticism: "same game, different year." It was never literally true, of course, but has often reasonably captured the sentiments of millions of players who jump into annualized sports sims year after year. EA's NFL sim Madden may be the most common target of this flavor of feedback.

There have been years when I, too, was very disappointed with Madden. It was taking the sport I love most and fumbling it every August. But for five years now, it's felt less true, and at this point, with Madden NFL 27, we just have to admit Madden is good again.

To be fair, I had even higher praise for Madden 26 than you'll find in this Madden 27 review, which takes a slight step back in some ways, but none of those shortcomings can be found on the virtual field itself. It's the continued gameplay improvements that keep Madden from succumbing once more to formerly reliable memes and criticisms. The Tiburon team has been building and iterating on its foundational gameplay in clear and beneficial ways on a timeline that, to my mind, began with Madden 23. It culminates with this year's game, which feels better than ever when you step onto the gridiron.

Defense is the key. Despite my career-high praise of last year's game, something shook it to its core a month or two after launch, breaking the pass rush for the duration of the game's time in the sun. It resulted in a Madden experience where games routinely went over 90 total points scored. In my competitive Madden league, I even saw some players score upwards of 70+ several times. Defense was sickly. Madden 27 is medicine. 

This year's game focuses intensely on giving players more control over their players and improving things like zone coverage and pass rushing, in particular. In last year's game, it felt like you needed a sixth sense as the user on D to make a stop. With smarter zone coverage, you can rely on AI defenders. Players won't spectate from the middle of their zone anymore, as they now "look for work," diagnosing a play's progression and playing proactively rather than reactively. Along with new tools to play conservatively, aggressively, or their ultra variants, you can now better prepare for what you think you know before the ball is snapped. 

These new shoulder-button commands are part of a complete remap of the pre-play adjustments. These take some getting used to, as they reconfigure years of muscle memory for longtime Madden players, but it's a worthy learning curve to run down, because the end result gives you not just more options, but options that are much quicker to activate. 

Things that may have taken four or five button presses in past games now take just two, and with new custom adjustments, you can create your own macro adjustments, bundling a set of would-be individual changes all in one go. For example, if you think you know what play your opponent is running, you can quickly activate a macro that adjusts your defensive line spacing, cornerback shading, and LB zone depth in ways that you feel counter that play correctly, all with the press of two buttons.

It's truly revolutionary and speaks to Madden's renewed energy spent on serving the diehard community first and foremost. Even if macros sound too sweaty, you can use those provided by default, never having to jump into the game's menus to create your own. It's not as sexy a feature as the awesome new holiday game presentation, but in my mind, these new tools are the defining feature of Madden 27.

As deep as these new tools go to help defense, many of them work on both sides of the ball, and the offense actually gets an exclusive new toy, too. Timing-based catching came to both of EA's American football games this summer, and Madden has the benefit of learning from College Football's launch-week struggles. Similarly to timing your NBA 2K shot release in the green zone, timing-based catching asks Madden players to snag the ball at the moment it hits your hands. I've taken about two weeks to make up my mind on this optional new mechanic, which you can toggle off. I was skeptical and worried at first, but I've settled on using it. It adds more player input to plays, removing some of the Madden Math--as those in my league like to call it when the game's attributes algorithm calculates who wins or loses any scuffle on a play.

My only concern right now is that finding the sweet spot will be a months-long quest for the studio, as it reacts to players saying it's too powerful or not powerful enough. I hope it can settle into something predictable and reliable. If it does, I believe we'll see the team iterate on the feature in welcome ways for years to come. If it never quite lands right with the wider community, it may go the way of QB Vision: quickly swept out of the game. But for me, and for now, I like it.

For many, including me, Franchise is the destination mode, and for the second straight year, the mode actually delivers some big changes that I enjoy. The marquee addition here is the Persona Engine, which assigns every player a number of personality traits, then makes dealing with them on your roster an interpersonal minigame. Players may have a team-first mindset, or they may be driven by money over all things. They may be quick to annoy or helpfully patient. They may be near the end of their career and seeking to close it out with a title, or they might demand a trade because you didn't offer them a contract that they felt respected their efforts. 

Something like this has been in Madden in recent years, but it's only been relevant during free agency, and even then, hasn't been very influential. This year, it's actually a big deal and will undoubtedly reshape your roster in unpredictable ways. A football team is 53 players, and for the first time ever, you'll feel like you're coaching 53 unique individuals. 

This is made better by an overhaul to how contracts are offered. For a long time, Madden's deals would reflect only one format: year-over-year pay increases. That might sound typical at your job, but it's not nearly true of the NFL, and now Madden captures these nuances. You can negotiate to add void years, rearrange the salary versus bonus money, apply no-trade clauses, and a number of other options that dynamically become available during contract talks, which now happen all throughout the season, rather than having a bunch of guys ready to discuss contracts in Week 3 like the old way Madden did deal-making.

It's important to note that, though I didn't see many head-scratching deals in my Franchise sessions, social media has featured several in the first few days since Madden's release. Computer-controlled teams are signing too many players at one position, re-signing much of their roster for mega-deals that would break the salary cap, and doing other things that suggest Madden's new Persona Engine logic is causing some headaches. It's a tricky thing for me, as I didn't see them myself, so it can't color my firsthand experience--and playing in a 32-player league means I'll be insulated from CPU tomfoolery such as this--but I see these stories and ingest them like headlines of viruses somewhere else in the world. For now, I'm apparently safe, but I'm mindful that such dangers are lurking elsewhere.

Kids would call this next part of my review a vibe shift. While the on-field and Franchise additions are great, if you're most interested in other modes, you'll be left wanting. Despite some fun in the custom-avatar career mode, Superstar, it was a frustrating experience overall. I played my career as a free safety, one of the new positions you can take on. But the play-by-play scoring system--a load-bearing pillar of this mode--is routinely faulty. When I'd make a tackle, it would score me as having made a tackle assist. When I'd engage in a block, it would downgrade me for having been pancaked, even as I remained upright. Even weirder, it would get game results wrong. With the Chargers, I beat the Rams to go 6-1, but after the game it said we were 5-2. Then next week, when I lost to the Texans, it gave me a win. 

Off the field, Superstar is still a fatigue-inducing affair of menus, corny brand inserts, and false choices. Often, dialogue options let me choose what to say in a text message or to the media, and the difference in outcomes is negligible. This mode also gets to something that is becoming worse in Madden, and probably only going to get even worse once the long-rumored PvPvE social mode, akin to NBA 2K's The City, finally arrives. Monetization is everywhere, and it's affecting gameplay.

You can buy levels to improve your avatar faster than playing, but you can also buy a Superstar Pass, which is just a battle-pass-style system that gives you even more skill points for leveling up. Neither precludes you from the other, and in fact EA seems all too happy to let you double-dip, since progression is slow either way, and especially painful if you try to play for free, even if you stick to the single-player story. 

The blowback NBA 2K gets over similar tactics hasn't really hit Madden yet because its half-measure of a social mode, Superstar Showdown, is largely ignored by the game's diehard players, whereas in NBA 2K, The City is the point for most players. But if predatory progression slowdowns like this still exist when that mode finally arrives, it'll be EA willfully stepping on a rake after having surely heard about these issues for years beforehand. At the very least, NBA 2K charges players a lot but delivers a fun game mode. For EA to both ask for so much of your money after the initial $70 (or even $150) and still not offer something enjoyable in exchange is mind-boggling.

All that spending doesn't even account for the mode-agnostic Team Pass, which is another $10 every few weeks if you want it. Like last year's game, the Team Pass includes some recycled rewards from the previous Madden, which is frustrating for paid content anyway, but especially bad when it means my Tennessee Titans cosmetics include the team's outdated branding, since they overhauled their logo and uniforms last winter.

Of course, you can't talk about overly monetized design without speaking to Ultimate Team, the decades-long undisputed champion of pay-to-win tactics in a fully priced game. For what it's worth, Ultimate Team (MUT) doesn't get much focus in Madden 27, which is what many Franchise and Superstar fans always hope for, as they feel it means more resources went to their preferred landing spots instead. 

What MUT does add this year is a bit more flexibility in how player cards crystallize, with "Evo" cards allowing you to over-level cards, change their archetypes, and more. To my eyes, this mode is a chore each year that demands you spend your free time playing nothing but MUT. I don't find that fun or rewarding and probably never will, so long as they keep throwing me into games against credit-card warriors who spend hundreds or thousands of dollars to shred people online using the same small handful of glitched plays that emerge every year. Hard pass.

On top of the awesome holiday presentation packages that decorate broadcast-style elements to fit Halloween, Thanksgiving, and Christmas, Madden 27's presentation adds a few other welcome touches. This includes more numerous and detailed alternate field designs that are rolled out to match throwback and alternate jerseys whenever the home team equips them. The weekly recap and halftime shows go deeper than before, adding a Player of the Week segment. It's all still handled by Scott Hanson, too, who brings authenticity and electricity to each instance. 

With all of these new bells and whistles over the past two Maddens, I do wish players in PvP could opt into what the game calls "full" presentation. By default, if you're playing someone online, the game skips a lot of these awesome displays, like pre-game run-outs and highlights that mimic fading to commercial. These go a long way toward giving the game a more authentic feel, and it's too bad I rarely get to see them once my review sessions are over and the rest of my games are played in PvP league games.

Presentation is right up there with gameplay and Franchise as the three key pillars that determine whether I enjoy a Madden installment. While the gains here have been smaller than those on the field, in particular, they are still very noticeable, very appreciated, and very cool.

Madden 27 is the fifth consecutive year in which the on-field experience has been foundationally sound and improves on its predecessor. It's a heartening trajectory for a series I've spent my life playing, through both good and bad eras. Despite the still-glaring issues in arenas like Superstar and MUT, Madden feels cool again. It's past time we stopped applying outdated perspectives to a game that has evolved significantly over the past half-decade. Madden will continue to frustrate at times, patches will sometimes be slow to arrive, and monetization is still way too intrusive and seems likely to get worse. But if you stick to Franchise and take advantage of the many new tools at your disposal on the field, there's a game worth celebrating here.

For my entire life, sports games have lived under the shadow of a particular criticism: "same game, different year." It was never literally true, of course, but has often reasonably captured the sentiments of millions of players who jump into annualized sports sims year after year. EA's NFL sim Madden may be the most common target of this flavor of feedback.

There have been years when I, too, was very disappointed with Madden. It was taking the sport I love most and fumbling it every August. But for five years now, it's felt less true, and at this point, with Madden NFL 27, we just have to admit Madden is good again.

To be fair, I had even higher praise for Madden 26 than you'll find in this Madden 27 review, which takes a slight step back in some ways, but none of those shortcomings can be found on the virtual field itself. It's the continued gameplay improvements that keep Madden from succumbing once more to formerly reliable memes and criticisms. The Tiburon team has been building and iterating on its foundational gameplay in clear and beneficial ways on a timeline that, to my mind, began with Madden 23. It culminates with this year's game, which feels better than ever when you step onto the gridiron.

Defense is the key. Despite my career-high praise of last year's game, something shook it to its core a month or two after launch, breaking the pass rush for the duration of the game's time in the sun. It resulted in a Madden experience where games routinely went over 90 total points scored. In my competitive Madden league, I even saw some players score upwards of 70+ several times. Defense was sickly. Madden 27 is medicine. 

This year's game focuses intensely on giving players more control over their players and improving things like zone coverage and pass rushing, in particular. In last year's game, it felt like you needed a sixth sense as the user on D to make a stop. With smarter zone coverage, you can rely on AI defenders. Players won't spectate from the middle of their zone anymore, as they now "look for work," diagnosing a play's progression and playing proactively rather than reactively. Along with new tools to play conservatively, aggressively, or their ultra variants, you can now better prepare for what you think you know before the ball is snapped. 

These new shoulder-button commands are part of a complete remap of the pre-play adjustments. These take some getting used to, as they reconfigure years of muscle memory for longtime Madden players, but it's a worthy learning curve to run down, because the end result gives you not just more options, but options that are much quicker to activate. 

Things that may have taken four or five button presses in past games now take just two, and with new custom adjustments, you can create your own macro adjustments, bundling a set of would-be individual changes all in one go. For example, if you think you know what play your opponent is running, you can quickly activate a macro that adjusts your defensive line spacing, cornerback shading, and LB zone depth in ways that you feel counter that play correctly, all with the press of two buttons.

It's truly revolutionary and speaks to Madden's renewed energy spent on serving the diehard community first and foremost. Even if macros sound too sweaty, you can use those provided by default, never having to jump into the game's menus to create your own. It's not as sexy a feature as the awesome new holiday game presentation, but in my mind, these new tools are the defining feature of Madden 27.

As deep as these new tools go to help defense, many of them work on both sides of the ball, and the offense actually gets an exclusive new toy, too. Timing-based catching came to both of EA's American football games this summer, and Madden has the benefit of learning from College Football's launch-week struggles. Similarly to timing your NBA 2K shot release in the green zone, timing-based catching asks Madden players to snag the ball at the moment it hits your hands. I've taken about two weeks to make up my mind on this optional new mechanic, which you can toggle off. I was skeptical and worried at first, but I've settled on using it. It adds more player input to plays, removing some of the Madden Math--as those in my league like to call it when the game's attributes algorithm calculates who wins or loses any scuffle on a play.

My only concern right now is that finding the sweet spot will be a months-long quest for the studio, as it reacts to players saying it's too powerful or not powerful enough. I hope it can settle into something predictable and reliable. If it does, I believe we'll see the team iterate on the feature in welcome ways for years to come. If it never quite lands right with the wider community, it may go the way of QB Vision: quickly swept out of the game. But for me, and for now, I like it.

For many, including me, Franchise is the destination mode, and for the second straight year, the mode actually delivers some big changes that I enjoy. The marquee addition here is the Persona Engine, which assigns every player a number of personality traits, then makes dealing with them on your roster an interpersonal minigame. Players may have a team-first mindset, or they may be driven by money over all things. They may be quick to annoy or helpfully patient. They may be near the end of their career and seeking to close it out with a title, or they might demand a trade because you didn't offer them a contract that they felt respected their efforts. 

Something like this has been in Madden in recent years, but it's only been relevant during free agency, and even then, hasn't been very influential. This year, it's actually a big deal and will undoubtedly reshape your roster in unpredictable ways. A football team is 53 players, and for the first time ever, you'll feel like you're coaching 53 unique individuals. 

This is made better by an overhaul to how contracts are offered. For a long time, Madden's deals would reflect only one format: year-over-year pay increases. That might sound typical at your job, but it's not nearly true of the NFL, and now Madden captures these nuances. You can negotiate to add void years, rearrange the salary versus bonus money, apply no-trade clauses, and a number of other options that dynamically become available during contract talks, which now happen all throughout the season, rather than having a bunch of guys ready to discuss contracts in Week 3 like the old way Madden did deal-making.

It's important to note that, though I didn't see many head-scratching deals in my Franchise sessions, social media has featured several in the first few days since Madden's release. Computer-controlled teams are signing too many players at one position, re-signing much of their roster for mega-deals that would break the salary cap, and doing other things that suggest Madden's new Persona Engine logic is causing some headaches. It's a tricky thing for me, as I didn't see them myself, so it can't color my firsthand experience--and playing in a 32-player league means I'll be insulated from CPU tomfoolery such as this--but I see these stories and ingest them like headlines of viruses somewhere else in the world. For now, I'm apparently safe, but I'm mindful that such dangers are lurking elsewhere.

Kids would call this next part of my review a vibe shift. While the on-field and Franchise additions are great, if you're most interested in other modes, you'll be left wanting. Despite some fun in the custom-avatar career mode, Superstar, it was a frustrating experience overall. I played my career as a free safety, one of the new positions you can take on. But the play-by-play scoring system--a load-bearing pillar of this mode--is routinely faulty. When I'd make a tackle, it would score me as having made a tackle assist. When I'd engage in a block, it would downgrade me for having been pancaked, even as I remained upright. Even weirder, it would get game results wrong. With the Chargers, I beat the Rams to go 6-1, but after the game it said we were 5-2. Then next week, when I lost to the Texans, it gave me a win. 

Off the field, Superstar is still a fatigue-inducing affair of menus, corny brand inserts, and false choices. Often, dialogue options let me choose what to say in a text message or to the media, and the difference in outcomes is negligible. This mode also gets to something that is becoming worse in Madden, and probably only going to get even worse once the long-rumored PvPvE social mode, akin to NBA 2K's The City, finally arrives. Monetization is everywhere, and it's affecting gameplay.

You can buy levels to improve your avatar faster than playing, but you can also buy a Superstar Pass, which is just a battle-pass-style system that gives you even more skill points for leveling up. Neither precludes you from the other, and in fact EA seems all too happy to let you double-dip, since progression is slow either way, and especially painful if you try to play for free, even if you stick to the single-player story. 

The blowback NBA 2K gets over similar tactics hasn't really hit Madden yet because its half-measure of a social mode, Superstar Showdown, is largely ignored by the game's diehard players, whereas in NBA 2K, The City is the point for most players. But if predatory progression slowdowns like this still exist when that mode finally arrives, it'll be EA willfully stepping on a rake after having surely heard about these issues for years beforehand. At the very least, NBA 2K charges players a lot but delivers a fun game mode. For EA to both ask for so much of your money after the initial $70 (or even $150) and still not offer something enjoyable in exchange is mind-boggling.

All that spending doesn't even account for the mode-agnostic Team Pass, which is another $10 every few weeks if you want it. Like last year's game, the Team Pass includes some recycled rewards from the previous Madden, which is frustrating for paid content anyway, but especially bad when it means my Tennessee Titans cosmetics include the team's outdated branding, since they overhauled their logo and uniforms last winter.

Of course, you can't talk about overly monetized design without speaking to Ultimate Team, the decades-long undisputed champion of pay-to-win tactics in a fully priced game. For what it's worth, Ultimate Team (MUT) doesn't get much focus in Madden 27, which is what many Franchise and Superstar fans always hope for, as they feel it means more resources went to their preferred landing spots instead. 

What MUT does add this year is a bit more flexibility in how player cards crystallize, with "Evo" cards allowing you to over-level cards, change their archetypes, and more. To my eyes, this mode is a chore each year that demands you spend your free time playing nothing but MUT. I don't find that fun or rewarding and probably never will, so long as they keep throwing me into games against credit-card warriors who spend hundreds or thousands of dollars to shred people online using the same small handful of glitched plays that emerge every year. Hard pass.

On top of the awesome holiday presentation packages that decorate broadcast-style elements to fit Halloween, Thanksgiving, and Christmas, Madden 27's presentation adds a few other welcome touches. This includes more numerous and detailed alternate field designs that are rolled out to match throwback and alternate jerseys whenever the home team equips them. The weekly recap and halftime shows go deeper than before, adding a Player of the Week segment. It's all still handled by Scott Hanson, too, who brings authenticity and electricity to each instance. 

With all of these new bells and whistles over the past two Maddens, I do wish players in PvP could opt into what the game calls "full" presentation. By default, if you're playing someone online, the game skips a lot of these awesome displays, like pre-game run-outs and highlights that mimic fading to commercial. These go a long way toward giving the game a more authentic feel, and it's too bad I rarely get to see them once my review sessions are over and the rest of my games are played in PvP league games.

Presentation is right up there with gameplay and Franchise as the three key pillars that determine whether I enjoy a Madden installment. While the gains here have been smaller than those on the field, in particular, they are still very noticeable, very appreciated, and very cool.

Madden 27 is the fifth consecutive year in which the on-field experience has been foundationally sound and improves on its predecessor. It's a heartening trajectory for a series I've spent my life playing, through both good and bad eras. Despite the still-glaring issues in arenas like Superstar and MUT, Madden feels cool again. It's past time we stopped applying outdated perspectives to a game that has evolved significantly over the past half-decade. Madden will continue to frustrate at times, patches will sometimes be slow to arrive, and monetization is still way too intrusive and seems likely to get worse. But if you stick to Franchise and take advantage of the many new tools at your disposal on the field, there's a game worth celebrating here.

Mortal Shell 2 features most of the familiar hallmarks of the souls-like genre: It's set in a dark fantasy world and incorporates gothic, medieval, and otherworldly themes into its aesthetic. Its combat is deep, challenging, satisfyingly hard-hitting, and will punish you for being overzealous. There are bonfires (called beacons) where you can rest and recover lost health at the expense of respawning enemies, and you also drop the level-up currency each time you die, forcing you to retrieve it in the next life or lose it completely. 

On the surface, Mortal Shell 2 might sound like your standard run-of-the-mill souls-like–quite possibly too derivative for its own good–yet developer Cold Symmetry's sequel is more than just a safe and simple copycat. It manages to stand out in an overcrowded genre by taking familiar aspects and transforming them in a multitude of meaningful ways. 

As someone who quickly bounced off the first game, I came into Mortal Shell 2 with no expectations and was left constantly thrilled by its unique approach, which essentially deconstructs core elements of the souls-like experience to make them feel fresh and exciting.

The most immediately obvious of these is the absence of a stamina meter. You're free to attack and dodge as many times as you want without needing to stop, catch your breath, and wait for a meter to replenish. This gives Mortal Shell 2's combat an aggressive cadence, whether you're on the attack or defending for your life. Rather than backing off after avoiding a flurry of enemy attacks, you can instantly launch into a barrage of offensive strikes yourself, or carve through weaker enemy mobs without gasping for air halfway through. 

This doesn't mean it's a mindless hack-and-slasher either. You can't cancel out of any attack animations, so each forward strike needs to be deliberate and considered to avoid overcommitting and leaving yourself wide open, especially when using slower weapons like the Great Martyr's Blade or Obsidian Hammer. 

The decision to forgo stamina makes a dynamic difference and is one of the most notable ways Mortal Shell 2 improves upon its predecessor's combat–which was often marred by gratingly sluggish battles. It's still not particularly fast-paced by any stretch, but the combat animations are much snappier without losing a sense of weight and visceral brutality.

The minutiae of stabbing, slicing, and bashing enemies to death with various melee weapons can best be described as "meaty," creating a satisfying crunch as you cleave through flesh and lop off heads, limbs, and non-human body parts amidst a torrent of crimson rain. It's great stuff, bolstered by a diverse variety of weapons and enemy types. From a large scythe and rangy spear to dual katanas that transform into an axe, each weapon type feels distinct, and there's plenty of joy to be found alternating between light and heavy attacks to fluidly launch into different combos. 

I only wish it were feasible to experiment with more weapons as your growing arsenal gradually expands. By the midway point in the game, I was drowning in upgrade materials but only ever had enough money to fully upgrade a single weapon. It would've been nice to use some of the others beyond just testing them out, but trading a weapon with multiple upgrades for one without any made no sense when I was never going to be able to improve it as much.

You're also equipped with a sidearm, starting out with a short-range shotgun before moving on to more experimental armaments, such as a miniature Gatling gun and a lute that causes enemies to fight amongst themselves after a forceful strum. Each shot costs Resolve, which is replenished by connecting with melee attacks, so sidearms are an intrinsic part of combat, adding to its dynamism with another gratifying way to dismantle enemies. 

Meanwhile, the enemies you'll face come in all shapes and sizes. There are armored knights–wielding either a sword or spear–fleet-footed assassins, religious fanatics, large bearded human skulls that scuttle around on four legs, insect-like creatures with deadly pincers, rock-throwing giants, and everything else in between. 

This variety does plateau a tad during the game's second half, as it introduces more variants of familiar enemies rather than entirely new ones, but there are so many different opponents to fight that repetition rarely rears its ugly head. They're not just visually distinct, either. Each enemy type is meaningfully diverse in how they approach you, typically mixing things up with multiple attack patterns and feints to throw you off. 

While you can always dodge incoming strikes, Mortal Shell 2 also gives you access to a few unique defensive maneuvers to suit different playstyles. The Harden mechanic from the first game returns–letting you calcify to absorb an enemy attack–only now it's tied to a specific Seal. Seals are new items in Mortal Shell 2; you can only equip one at a time, and each one contains what would normally be a standard souls-like mechanic.

Blocking, for instance, is tied to a Seal that also lets you parry, dealing break damage to eventually make them vulnerable to a powerful riposte. Another Seal removes the ability to block but tightens the parry window, introducing greater risk for a greater reward by dishing out more break damage if your timing is perfect.             

This opens up the game's build variety, especially when combined with the titular Mortal Shells. Similar to the first game, you play as a faceless husk known as the Harbinger, a relatively weak entity that has the power to inhabit fallen warriors. There are eight Shells in total, and each one can be found at their character's final resting place, whether that's hunched over and impaled on a greatsword, hastily stuffed into a shallow grave, or displayed in a mausoleum beneath the Royal Keep. 

Every Shell adheres to a rigid character archetype with predetermined stats that can be upgraded but not changed. This might sound restrictive, but it allows for tangible differences in how each Shell plays–especially when factoring in their unique abilities–with variety coming from your choice of weapons, Seals, and Tarstones. 

I mostly played as Eredrim, a knight with the ability to lunge at enemies with a devastating shoulder bash that deals significant break damage. He also has a passive ability aptly named Executioner, allowing you to instantly execute enemies who are at low health. By performing ripostes, this ability also stacks, with each stack raising the low-health threshold at which enemies can be executed. If you like playing on the front foot, Eredrim is particularly satisfying to use, but the other Shells are no less interesting. 

Tiel is a thief who can turn invisible for a short duration, lunging out of the shadows to strike with a dagger. While any Shell can equip the relevant Seal to parry attacks, Tiel excels as a nimble character, with perfectly timed dodges turning you invisible and dealing stagger damage to the enemy. 

Sariel, on the other hand, fires parasitic thorns that hunt down nearby foes, nullifying their next melee attack while also inflicting Pain on Sariel himself. Pain affects your health bar, adding a grey portion that can be lost in a single hit or cured by dishing out melee damage. When Sariel has no Pain, a huge 50% of incoming damage becomes Pain. However, reaching the Pain limit lets you dodge faster, putting you in the role of a masochistic character who excels when it hurts the most.    

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DHQXkfdhk7E

Tarstones add another layer to the development of your build, unlocking everything from specific buffs to powerful special attacks. They can be found by exploring the world, completing dungeons, and defeating bosses, so once I had discovered enough, I eventually geared mine towards dishing out as much melee damage as humanly possible. With each Tarstone fully maxed out and upgraded, I increased my critical damage by 100%, raised my critical chance probability to 18%, and was guaranteed a critical hit every five attacks. It's an incredibly flexible system, creating a greater discrepancy between the usual strength or dexterity options and ensuring that build variety remains at the forefront of the game's ethos.

With so many tools at your disposal, Mortal Shell 2 still manages to strike a decent balance with regard to its difficulty. For the most part, it's a challenging game, but one that hits the souls-like sweet spot where it rarely feels unfair. Deaths are typically your own fault, and there's always room to improve, both as a player and by upgrading your character. 

There are a couple of difficulty modifiers you can utilize as well, with a specific Seal making things easier at the cost of disabling Achievements, and another item that lets you increase the difficulty while also opening up a few areas that are otherwise locked. The fact that this isn't just a binary difficulty choice fits the genre, though disabling Achievements feels egregious, even if most of its contemporaries refuse to offer an easier alternative.

The game's default challenge comes saddled with a few caveats, too. While it mostly feels fair, falling to your death is too common for my tastes. The entire open-world map is suspended in the air, so there are numerous areas where you can slip off the map, particularly when a lot of attacks will knock you several feet backward. I can place some of the blame for this misfortune at my own feet, but there were still dozens of situations where toppling off the side of a cliff felt cheap and frustrating. Dying more to fall damage than the game's own bosses is a travesty.

This is partly due to the game's level design and partly because some of the bosses are overly simplistic in their attack patterns. It's a problem that afflicts mini-bosses more frequently than the game's headline foes, but it also doesn't help that the basic parry window is exceedingly generous. When you're fighting regular enemies, and typically dealing with more than one, this isn't much of an issue. It's just much more prominent when facing a mini-boss that's too predictable to be compelling.

Aside from the abundance of dangerous ledges, Mortal Shell 2's open world is a fascinating place to explore. It's not as expansive as something like Elden Ring's The Lands Between–you won't find any vast open fields, for instance–but it's densely packed. Each area feels like a dedicated level from a more linear game, except they're all interconnected with more than one way in and out. 

Its castles and murky swamps can feel a tad derivative, but there are typically more than a few visual flourishes that stand out in even the most familiar locales. There's an abbey where the colors are muted to the point of looking almost monochrome, yet the red leaves wrapping around its cold, stone walls create this striking burst of color. Elsewhere, you'll find unsettling human teeth carved into cave walls, monolithic structures that punctuate the horizon, and what was once a picturesque village now plagued by rabid cultists. Material rewards are available for those who deign to explore, but the sights themselves are often a reward of their own.

Mortal Shell 2 constantly surprised me, whether it was the mechanics behind a newly discovered Shell, the layered improvements to combat, a bulbous monstrosity of a boss fight that was more mouth than anything else, or the ways you can tinker with a build and make it wholly your own. It stumbles at times and could use some fine-tuning to really hone its balance issues, but even if it can be irritating or too simplistic at times, these moments are overshadowed by its unmistakable strengths.

Mortal Shell 2 features most of the familiar hallmarks of the souls-like genre: It's set in a dark fantasy world and incorporates gothic, medieval, and otherworldly themes into its aesthetic. Its combat is deep, challenging, satisfyingly hard-hitting, and will punish you for being overzealous. There are bonfires (called beacons) where you can rest and recover lost health at the expense of respawning enemies, and you also drop the level-up currency each time you die, forcing you to retrieve it in the next life or lose it completely. 

On the surface, Mortal Shell 2 might sound like your standard run-of-the-mill souls-like–quite possibly too derivative for its own good–yet developer Cold Symmetry's sequel is more than just a safe and simple copycat. It manages to stand out in an overcrowded genre by taking familiar aspects and transforming them in a multitude of meaningful ways. 

As someone who quickly bounced off the first game, I came into Mortal Shell 2 with no expectations and was left constantly thrilled by its unique approach, which essentially deconstructs core elements of the souls-like experience to make them feel fresh and exciting.

The most immediately obvious of these is the absence of a stamina meter. You're free to attack and dodge as many times as you want without needing to stop, catch your breath, and wait for a meter to replenish. This gives Mortal Shell 2's combat an aggressive cadence, whether you're on the attack or defending for your life. Rather than backing off after avoiding a flurry of enemy attacks, you can instantly launch into a barrage of offensive strikes yourself, or carve through weaker enemy mobs without gasping for air halfway through. 

This doesn't mean it's a mindless hack-and-slasher either. You can't cancel out of any attack animations, so each forward strike needs to be deliberate and considered to avoid overcommitting and leaving yourself wide open, especially when using slower weapons like the Great Martyr's Blade or Obsidian Hammer. 

The decision to forgo stamina makes a dynamic difference and is one of the most notable ways Mortal Shell 2 improves upon its predecessor's combat–which was often marred by gratingly sluggish battles. It's still not particularly fast-paced by any stretch, but the combat animations are much snappier without losing a sense of weight and visceral brutality.

The minutiae of stabbing, slicing, and bashing enemies to death with various melee weapons can best be described as "meaty," creating a satisfying crunch as you cleave through flesh and lop off heads, limbs, and non-human body parts amidst a torrent of crimson rain. It's great stuff, bolstered by a diverse variety of weapons and enemy types. From a large scythe and rangy spear to dual katanas that transform into an axe, each weapon type feels distinct, and there's plenty of joy to be found alternating between light and heavy attacks to fluidly launch into different combos. 

I only wish it were feasible to experiment with more weapons as your growing arsenal gradually expands. By the midway point in the game, I was drowning in upgrade materials but only ever had enough money to fully upgrade a single weapon. It would've been nice to use some of the others beyond just testing them out, but trading a weapon with multiple upgrades for one without any made no sense when I was never going to be able to improve it as much.

You're also equipped with a sidearm, starting out with a short-range shotgun before moving on to more experimental armaments, such as a miniature Gatling gun and a lute that causes enemies to fight amongst themselves after a forceful strum. Each shot costs Resolve, which is replenished by connecting with melee attacks, so sidearms are an intrinsic part of combat, adding to its dynamism with another gratifying way to dismantle enemies. 

Meanwhile, the enemies you'll face come in all shapes and sizes. There are armored knights–wielding either a sword or spear–fleet-footed assassins, religious fanatics, large bearded human skulls that scuttle around on four legs, insect-like creatures with deadly pincers, rock-throwing giants, and everything else in between. 

This variety does plateau a tad during the game's second half, as it introduces more variants of familiar enemies rather than entirely new ones, but there are so many different opponents to fight that repetition rarely rears its ugly head. They're not just visually distinct, either. Each enemy type is meaningfully diverse in how they approach you, typically mixing things up with multiple attack patterns and feints to throw you off. 

While you can always dodge incoming strikes, Mortal Shell 2 also gives you access to a few unique defensive maneuvers to suit different playstyles. The Harden mechanic from the first game returns–letting you calcify to absorb an enemy attack–only now it's tied to a specific Seal. Seals are new items in Mortal Shell 2; you can only equip one at a time, and each one contains what would normally be a standard souls-like mechanic.

Blocking, for instance, is tied to a Seal that also lets you parry, dealing break damage to eventually make them vulnerable to a powerful riposte. Another Seal removes the ability to block but tightens the parry window, introducing greater risk for a greater reward by dishing out more break damage if your timing is perfect.             

This opens up the game's build variety, especially when combined with the titular Mortal Shells. Similar to the first game, you play as a faceless husk known as the Harbinger, a relatively weak entity that has the power to inhabit fallen warriors. There are eight Shells in total, and each one can be found at their character's final resting place, whether that's hunched over and impaled on a greatsword, hastily stuffed into a shallow grave, or displayed in a mausoleum beneath the Royal Keep. 

Every Shell adheres to a rigid character archetype with predetermined stats that can be upgraded but not changed. This might sound restrictive, but it allows for tangible differences in how each Shell plays–especially when factoring in their unique abilities–with variety coming from your choice of weapons, Seals, and Tarstones. 

I mostly played as Eredrim, a knight with the ability to lunge at enemies with a devastating shoulder bash that deals significant break damage. He also has a passive ability aptly named Executioner, allowing you to instantly execute enemies who are at low health. By performing ripostes, this ability also stacks, with each stack raising the low-health threshold at which enemies can be executed. If you like playing on the front foot, Eredrim is particularly satisfying to use, but the other Shells are no less interesting. 

Tiel is a thief who can turn invisible for a short duration, lunging out of the shadows to strike with a dagger. While any Shell can equip the relevant Seal to parry attacks, Tiel excels as a nimble character, with perfectly timed dodges turning you invisible and dealing stagger damage to the enemy. 

Sariel, on the other hand, fires parasitic thorns that hunt down nearby foes, nullifying their next melee attack while also inflicting Pain on Sariel himself. Pain affects your health bar, adding a grey portion that can be lost in a single hit or cured by dishing out melee damage. When Sariel has no Pain, a huge 50% of incoming damage becomes Pain. However, reaching the Pain limit lets you dodge faster, putting you in the role of a masochistic character who excels when it hurts the most.    

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DHQXkfdhk7E

Tarstones add another layer to the development of your build, unlocking everything from specific buffs to powerful special attacks. They can be found by exploring the world, completing dungeons, and defeating bosses, so once I had discovered enough, I eventually geared mine towards dishing out as much melee damage as humanly possible. With each Tarstone fully maxed out and upgraded, I increased my critical damage by 100%, raised my critical chance probability to 18%, and was guaranteed a critical hit every five attacks. It's an incredibly flexible system, creating a greater discrepancy between the usual strength or dexterity options and ensuring that build variety remains at the forefront of the game's ethos.

With so many tools at your disposal, Mortal Shell 2 still manages to strike a decent balance with regard to its difficulty. For the most part, it's a challenging game, but one that hits the souls-like sweet spot where it rarely feels unfair. Deaths are typically your own fault, and there's always room to improve, both as a player and by upgrading your character. 

There are a couple of difficulty modifiers you can utilize as well, with a specific Seal making things easier at the cost of disabling Achievements, and another item that lets you increase the difficulty while also opening up a few areas that are otherwise locked. The fact that this isn't just a binary difficulty choice fits the genre, though disabling Achievements feels egregious, even if most of its contemporaries refuse to offer an easier alternative.

The game's default challenge comes saddled with a few caveats, too. While it mostly feels fair, falling to your death is too common for my tastes. The entire open-world map is suspended in the air, so there are numerous areas where you can slip off the map, particularly when a lot of attacks will knock you several feet backward. I can place some of the blame for this misfortune at my own feet, but there were still dozens of situations where toppling off the side of a cliff felt cheap and frustrating. Dying more to fall damage than the game's own bosses is a travesty.

This is partly due to the game's level design and partly because some of the bosses are overly simplistic in their attack patterns. It's a problem that afflicts mini-bosses more frequently than the game's headline foes, but it also doesn't help that the basic parry window is exceedingly generous. When you're fighting regular enemies, and typically dealing with more than one, this isn't much of an issue. It's just much more prominent when facing a mini-boss that's too predictable to be compelling.

Aside from the abundance of dangerous ledges, Mortal Shell 2's open world is a fascinating place to explore. It's not as expansive as something like Elden Ring's The Lands Between–you won't find any vast open fields, for instance–but it's densely packed. Each area feels like a dedicated level from a more linear game, except they're all interconnected with more than one way in and out. 

Its castles and murky swamps can feel a tad derivative, but there are typically more than a few visual flourishes that stand out in even the most familiar locales. There's an abbey where the colors are muted to the point of looking almost monochrome, yet the red leaves wrapping around its cold, stone walls create this striking burst of color. Elsewhere, you'll find unsettling human teeth carved into cave walls, monolithic structures that punctuate the horizon, and what was once a picturesque village now plagued by rabid cultists. Material rewards are available for those who deign to explore, but the sights themselves are often a reward of their own.

Mortal Shell 2 constantly surprised me, whether it was the mechanics behind a newly discovered Shell, the layered improvements to combat, a bulbous monstrosity of a boss fight that was more mouth than anything else, or the ways you can tinker with a build and make it wholly your own. It stumbles at times and could use some fine-tuning to really hone its balance issues, but even if it can be irritating or too simplistic at times, these moments are overshadowed by its unmistakable strengths.

For many fighting game fans, It's impossible to look at Marvel Tokon and not think of Marvel Vs. Capcom. 

The crossover series defined the crossover tag genre, from X-Men Vs. Street Fighter in 1996 to Ultimate Marvel Vs. Capcom 3 in 2011. For some who didn't read comics as a kid, myself included, these games were the introduction to the X-Men, Avengers, and other Marvel faces that fought alongside Capcom's top characters.

With MvC dormant outside of a recent collection, Arc System Works has swooped in with Marvel Tokon: Fighting Souls, its own take on the Marvel tag fighter idea. The result is a wonderful fighting system and flashy new look that quickly establishes its own identity, one that is worthy of standing with the giants of the past--although the PC version isn't as super as the heroes in the game.

Fantastic four

Marvel Tokon's four-on-four gameplay is its most radical change to the tag format, but not for the reasons I first expected. Previous experience would suggest that each player would choose four fighters, each with their own life bar, and the first player to knock out all four of the opposing player's team members would win. That's not how Tokon works; instead, each of the four heroes shares a single life bar, and the first player to win three-out-of-five rounds takes the match. 

This is a fundamental and ingenious shift in how the player interacts with their team; one player could choose to keep their best fighter on point and select their assisting heroes to fit that fighter's style, or they could decide to learn four characters and incorporate tags into their strategy. It allows newer fighting game players to ease into the tag format, while entrenched players can immediately lean into the more advanced elements of the system. For a genre that sometimes struggles to find the balance in catering to new and veteran players alike, Arc System Works nailed it with Tokon's fighting scheme.

Both approaches are impacted by another interesting design choice. Though you choose four fighters before a match, you only start the match with two active: a point character and one assist character. The other two assists have to be unlocked during the match, either by initiating a wall break (a move which slams an opponent into the boundary, "breaking" it and sending the character to another arena) and "assembling" your fighters in other parts of the stage, or by losing a round and gaining a hero as the next round begins. 

While "not having access to all selected fighters" sounds like it could be detrimental to the experience, Tokon once again exceeds my expectations. Limiting heroes is a form of balancing each match; Round 3 could start with one player up 2-0 with only two characters and the other down 0-2 with a full team. Giving the 0-2 player access to all four assists allows them to be more versatile in their approach and perhaps stage a comeback. However, in doing so, that player with the early lead slowly assembles their team, and if the match becomes 2-2, it's a full-strength slugfest in the final round. Every match is different, yet equally thrilling; I am astounded at what Arc was able to do here. 

Controlling each fighter is simplified too, as executing special moves adapts the Super Smash Bros. "button press and directional input" approach. There are some more advanced inputs for those who care to learn them, but the first time you pick up a controller, two buttons will let you perform a unique move. 

Assists work the same way, but by holding L2 when the assist emerges, you can switch to that character immediately and continue the combo. I feel like the words "easy to learn, hard to master" were plastered all over Arc System Works's Yokohama office, because that's the prevailing sense I get from every aspect of Tokon's approach, and it's tremendously successful at it. 

Choose your fighter

The initial roster features 20 characters, which is small by tag fighter standards--Marvel vs. Capcom 3, for example, had 36 playable fighters out of the box--but it's a number that further contributes to that aforementioned balance. New players have a more manageable pool of character matchups to learn, while veteran players can find their favorites more quickly and move on to honing their skills. 

The roster is a mix of expected fan favorites and few interesting pulls, though I would say very few of the selections are truly unexpected. Captain America, Iron Man, Hulk, Magneto, and Doctor Doom are all here, while Carnage, Star-Lord, Blade, and Loki make their Marvel fighting game debut. The most obscure pull, if I had to choose, is Danger--I didn't even know the X-Men's training facility became sentient, so Marvel fighting games continue to introduce me to new characters. 

Deadpool deserves a paragraph all to himself. While his inclusion is not a surprise due to his massive popularity, the way Arc System Works has incorporated his fourth-wall-breaking nature is a master class. The character is a tribute to fighting game history in character form, and every match has me pointing at the screen like a Once Upon a Time in Hollywood meme. Some of the references are obvious--yes, that's Scorpion's spear from Mortal Kombat, everyone knows that--but I was amazed at just how deep the well of references goes. I doubt many newer players know what Kaiser Knuckle is, but if they see that one Deadpool pose and look it up, then mission accomplished, Arc System Works. 

My personal favorite characters are Peni Parker, as I really enjoy her ability to fill the arena with drones as a distraction before moving in for big damage, and Ms. Marvel, whose Dhalsim-like stretchy appendages mean that my opponent is never truly safe anywhere on the screen. Black Panther (the Shuri version this time; sorry, T'Challa) has also proven to be fun, but the one fighter I can't figure out is Green Goblin; I know the glider is a big part of his approach, but I haven't yet unlocked the best ways to do that. I suspect I'll learn the hard way from some player online soon enough. 

Rules of battle

Tokon offers a lot of ways to play, in both single-player and online multiplayer, and while mode selection at first seems a bit limited, Arc System Works once again avoids a regular fighting game pitfall by packing these modes with enough activities that they don't feel shallow. Episodes mode tells five different stories, one for each of the four teams featured in Tokon's trailers, and each one animated by a different artist. I didn't need more than an hour to complete each one, and they tell the overarching story of Tokon in fun ways. 

The other main single-player offering is All-Star Arena, which is split into two sections: Arena and Survival. Arena is the closest Tokon gets to offering a traditional "arcade" experience: You'll choose a team, choose a path, and then battle against random teams before getting to the end of your chosen path. Survival is a gauntlet of up to 100 battles, with health regeneration between each match and superpowered "boss" fighters at certain milestones. Both of these are fine ways to hone your skills against CPU teams of varying difficulty, but there isn't anything here that reinvents the wheel. 

Arcadia Rumble takes a different approach, as it mixes standard matches with a small arena-style challenge where players roam around a small area, collecting items to earn points and power up their characters for normal battles, and whoever has the most points wins. It's enjoyable enough in small bursts, and it makes for a cool party-style experience when a group wants something different from the ordinary online experience, but it didn't grab me as much as I'd hoped. I'd rather skip right to the fighting; the item-searching part just feels extraneous. 

The online experience also checks the usual boxes, with ranked matches, casual matches, and custom private lobbies all on offer. There's also an Open Lobby, where you explore a chibi-style version of Tokon's world with customizable avatars and arcade machines where you challenge other players. Exploring the open lobby is neat, as there are some little minigames to find outside of the normal Tokon matches, but the real thrill is matching up with another player and throwing down on one of the open arcade machines. Technically, all of the machines could fill up, but I have yet to see that myself. 

I played a handful of matches in each offering, joining up with some friends in a custom room, challenged random players in ranked and casual matches, and explored the Open Lobby. Online connections were strong thanks to the rollback netcode under the hood, and I rarely saw any technical hiccups at all while playing on PlayStation 5. 

It's here where the PC version of Tokon must be mentioned, as its launch has been, to put it lightly, disastrous. Connection issues, choppy play both online and offline, and other issues have plagued PC players since the game's launch, and while patches have been released that are beginning to alleviate the issues, the troubles they experienced cannot be discounted. As mentioned, I reviewed the game on PS5, so I did not experience those problems for myself, but until those issues are fully resolved, PC players will continue to have a much different experience than I did. If Arc System Works can turn it around, the wait will have been worth it. 

Marvel Tokon: Fighting Souls feels like a homecoming. Marvel heroes and villains are once again beating each other up in tag-based battles, and I am loving the experience of jumping in and figuring out new strategies. Rather than lean on old tropes, Arc System Works elected to put its own spin on the idea, and what they've cooked up sets a new bar for future tag fighters. Once the technical issues for PC are ironed out, there's a bright future ahead. With Marvel Tokon, Arc System Works has created the next foundational title for modern fighting games.

For many fighting game fans, It's impossible to look at Marvel Tokon and not think of Marvel Vs. Capcom. 

The crossover series defined the crossover tag genre, from X-Men Vs. Street Fighter in 1996 to Ultimate Marvel Vs. Capcom 3 in 2011. For some who didn't read comics as a kid, myself included, these games were the introduction to the X-Men, Avengers, and other Marvel faces that fought alongside Capcom's top characters.

With MvC dormant outside of a recent collection, Arc System Works has swooped in with Marvel Tokon: Fighting Souls, its own take on the Marvel tag fighter idea. The result is a wonderful fighting system and flashy new look that quickly establishes its own identity, one that is worthy of standing with the giants of the past--although the PC version isn't as super as the heroes in the game.

Fantastic four

Marvel Tokon's four-on-four gameplay is its most radical change to the tag format, but not for the reasons I first expected. Previous experience would suggest that each player would choose four fighters, each with their own life bar, and the first player to knock out all four of the opposing player's team members would win. That's not how Tokon works; instead, each of the four heroes shares a single life bar, and the first player to win three-out-of-five rounds takes the match. 

This is a fundamental and ingenious shift in how the player interacts with their team; one player could choose to keep their best fighter on point and select their assisting heroes to fit that fighter's style, or they could decide to learn four characters and incorporate tags into their strategy. It allows newer fighting game players to ease into the tag format, while entrenched players can immediately lean into the more advanced elements of the system. For a genre that sometimes struggles to find the balance in catering to new and veteran players alike, Arc System Works nailed it with Tokon's fighting scheme.

Both approaches are impacted by another interesting design choice. Though you choose four fighters before a match, you only start the match with two active: a point character and one assist character. The other two assists have to be unlocked during the match, either by initiating a wall break (a move which slams an opponent into the boundary, "breaking" it and sending the character to another arena) and "assembling" your fighters in other parts of the stage, or by losing a round and gaining a hero as the next round begins. 

While "not having access to all selected fighters" sounds like it could be detrimental to the experience, Tokon once again exceeds my expectations. Limiting heroes is a form of balancing each match; Round 3 could start with one player up 2-0 with only two characters and the other down 0-2 with a full team. Giving the 0-2 player access to all four assists allows them to be more versatile in their approach and perhaps stage a comeback. However, in doing so, that player with the early lead slowly assembles their team, and if the match becomes 2-2, it's a full-strength slugfest in the final round. Every match is different, yet equally thrilling; I am astounded at what Arc was able to do here. 

Controlling each fighter is simplified too, as executing special moves adapts the Super Smash Bros. "button press and directional input" approach. There are some more advanced inputs for those who care to learn them, but the first time you pick up a controller, two buttons will let you perform a unique move. 

Assists work the same way, but by holding L2 when the assist emerges, you can switch to that character immediately and continue the combo. I feel like the words "easy to learn, hard to master" were plastered all over Arc System Works's Yokohama office, because that's the prevailing sense I get from every aspect of Tokon's approach, and it's tremendously successful at it. 

Choose your fighter

The initial roster features 20 characters, which is small by tag fighter standards--Ultimate Marvel 3, for example, had 50 playable fighters out of the box--but it's a number that further contributes to that aforementioned balance. New players have a more manageable pool of character matchups to learn, while veteran players can find their favorites more quickly and move on to honing their skills. 

The roster is a mix of expected fan favorites and few interesting pulls, though I would say very few of the selections are truly unexpected. Captain America, Iron Man, Hulk, Magneto, and Doctor Doom are all here, while Carnage, Star-Lord, Blade, and Loki make their Marvel fighting game debut. The most obscure pull, if I had to choose, is Danger--I didn't even know the X-Men's training facility became sentient, so Marvel fighting games continue to introduce me to new characters. 

Deadpool deserves a paragraph all to himself. While his inclusion is not a surprise due to his massive popularity, the way Arc System Works has incorporated his fourth-wall-breaking nature is a master class. The character is a tribute to fighting game history in character form, and every match has me pointing at the screen like a Once Upon a Time in Hollywood meme. Some of the references are obvious--yes, that's Scorpion's spear from Mortal Kombat, everyone knows that--but I was amazed at just how deep the well of references goes. I doubt many newer players know what Kaiser Knuckle is, but if they see that one Deadpool pose and look it up, then mission accomplished, Arc System Works. 

My personal favorite characters are Peni Parker, as I really enjoy her ability to fill the arena with drones as a distraction before moving in for big damage, and Ms. Marvel, whose Dhalsim-like stretchy appendages mean that my opponent is never truly safe anywhere on the screen. Black Panther (the Shuri version this time; sorry, T'Challa) has also proven to be fun, but the one fighter I can't figure out is Green Goblin; I know the glider is a big part of his approach, but I haven't yet unlocked the best ways to do that. I suspect I'll learn the hard way from some player online soon enough. 

Rules of battle

Tokon offers a lot of ways to play, in both single-player and online multiplayer, and while mode selection at first seems a bit limited, Arc System Works once again avoids a regular fighting game pitfall by packing these modes with enough activities that they don't feel shallow. Episodes mode tells five different stories, one for each of the four teams featured in Tokon's trailers, and each one animated by a different artist. I didn't need more than an hour to complete each one, and they tell the overarching story of Tokon in fun ways. 

The other main single-player offering is All-Star Arena, which is split into two sections: Arena and Survival. Arena is the closest Tokon gets to offering a traditional "arcade" experience: You'll choose a team, choose a path, and then battle against random teams before getting to the end of your chosen path. Survival is a gauntlet of up to 100 battles, with health regeneration between each match and superpowered "boss" fighters at certain milestones. Both of these are fine ways to hone your skills against CPU teams of varying difficulty, but there isn't anything here that reinvents the wheel. 

Arcadia Rumble takes a different approach, as it mixes standard matches with a small arena-style challenge where players roam around a small area, collecting items to earn points and power up their characters for normal battles, and whoever has the most points wins. It's enjoyable enough in small bursts, and it makes for a cool party-style experience when a group wants something different from the ordinary online experience, but it didn't grab me as much as I'd hoped. I'd rather skip right to the fighting; the item-searching part just feels extraneous. 

The online experience also checks the usual boxes, with ranked matches, casual matches, and custom private lobbies all on offer. There's also an Open Lobby, where you explore a chibi-style version of Tokon's world with customizable avatars and arcade machines where you challenge other players. Exploring the open lobby is neat, as there are some little minigames to find outside of the normal Tokon matches, but the real thrill is matching up with another player and throwing down on one of the open arcade machines. Technically, all of the machines could fill up, but I have yet to see that myself. 

I played a handful of matches in each offering, joining up with some friends in a custom room, challenged random players in ranked and casual matches, and explored the Open Lobby. Online connections were strong thanks to the rollback netcode under the hood, and I rarely saw any technical hiccups at all while playing on PlayStation 5. 

It's here where the PC version of Tokon must be mentioned, as its launch has been, to put it lightly, disastrous. Connection issues, choppy play both online and offline, and other issues have plagued PC players since the game's launch, and while patches have been released that are beginning to alleviate the issues, the troubles they experienced cannot be discounted. As mentioned, I reviewed the game on PS5, so I did not experience those problems for myself, but until those issues are fully resolved, PC players will continue to have a much different experience than I did. If Arc System Works can turn it around, the wait will have been worth it. 

Marvel Tokon: Fighting Souls feels like a homecoming. Marvel heroes and villains are once again beating each other up in tag-based battles, and I am loving the experience of jumping in and figuring out new strategies. Rather than lean on old tropes, Arc System Works elected to put its own spin on the idea, and what they've cooked up sets a new bar for future tag fighters. Once the technical issues for PC are ironed out, there's a bright future ahead. With Marvel Tokon, Arc System Works has created the next foundational title for modern fighting games.

When you start a new game in Game Freak’s Beast of Reincarnation, a prompt asks if you’d like to play in cinematic mode. This locks the cutscene frame rate to 24 frames per second, but, understandably, leaves the gameplay as is. When I first saw this during my 90-minute preview session last month, it felt like a bold statement from Game Freak. Pokemon, Game Freak’s multigenerational smash-hit, can be described as many things, but cinematic it certainly is not. Unfortunately, aside from its flashy combat and a few cutscenes, Beast of Reincarnation isn't really cinematic, either. Flat performances and robotic animations undermine its fascinating story, bland environments sour its beautiful art direction, and an overall lack of polish hampers its intense combat. Though there are aspects of Beast of Reincarnation that I adored, for each one of them there’s always something that holds it back.

Beast of Reincarnation takes place exactly 2,000 years in the future, in 4026. After civilization was nearly wiped out by a phenomenon called The Blight, an infection that causes humans and animals alike to sprout vegetation, humanity transferred their souls into machines called golems to quell the spread. This inadvertently conquered death, but the relocated souls eventually deteriorated, leaving corrupted golems in their wake. The wildlife didn’t fare much better. Infected beasts called Malefacts wander the ruins of Japan attacking everything and everyone in their path. There’s a captivating history here that weaves together multiple science-fiction subgenres to create an intriguing world. The creatures that wander the wasteland feel biopunk-inspired, the aforementioned golem backstory is pulled from the cyberpunk genre, and the landscapes and architecture would feel at home in solarpunk fiction. Despite its many inspirations, Beast of Reincarnation’s world feels distinct.

https://youtu.be/erQ4lIW4Yo8?si=tohRNx3gTrRzvey2

This, in part, is due to the art direction. The futuristic technology juxtaposed alongside the overgrown ruins of Japan creates some memorable vistas that reflect the world’s alluring history. Emma, Beast of Reincarnation’s stoic protagonist, represents that fusion of technology and nature succinctly with her design. Her angular monochrome outfit is punctuated by a braid adorned with flowers that grows longer as she becomes stronger. It’s a nice touch that reflects your progress in her character design.

The plot centers around Emma and her dog Koo as they travel across Japan to reach the capital and hunt down the titular Beast of Reincarnation. Emma and Koo’s journey is frequently halted as they’re tasked with taking down a Nushi in each area--powerful Malefacts that spread The Blight. Each of these semi-open areas share a similar structure: You arrive, battle your way through the area, explore a little, and fight the boss. There are optional enemies to dispatch and loot to find, but these locales start to blend together after a while. Most of them consist of open fields with tall, green grass. As you get closer to the capital, those fields will be replaced with dry deserts. There are some interesting nooks hidden around each map, but it feels like a lot of wasted space.

There’s really not much to say about Emma. She’s a vessel, meaning she can absorb the power from enemies she’s defeated, but she is devoid of personality. She’s been told to fight and that’s exactly what she does. There are lore reasons for her languid disposition, but it doesn’t change the fact that nearly every interaction she has falls flat. In one scene, she robotically asks one of her traveling companions what love is. Her companion dryly explains that love is what happens when you miss people. This is made worse by deadpan voice work, static animations, and awkward editing that often leaves seconds of dead air between dialogue. The actors' performances are a little easier to stomach in Japanese, but the characters never escape what's largely dull writing.

This isn’t relegated to a few scenes, either. The entire script lacks subtext and nuance. Frequently, you return to your mobile base of operations, called a Cleanse Walker, to chat with your teammates. A young girl named Kagura who Emma saves early in the story tends to your base by cooking meals and managing resources. She happens to be just as dull as Emma, making their shared conversations painful to witness as the two emotionlessly talk about food or journals. There’s no energy behind their performances, the camera work lacks any creative direction, and they are always confined to the grey walls of the Cleanse Walker.

Ironically, the best character in the game doesn’t talk. Koo, Emma’s canine companion, is fierce and adorable. In one moment he’s lovingly looking up at Emma as they explore the world, and in the next he’s ripping out the titanium throat of a golem. He whimpers, barks, and even collects items for Emma. He’s an endearing companion with some charming animations, but Emma and Koo’s relationship never really develops throughout the game. We get some backstory here and there, but I never felt like they were forging a bond. Emma just doesn’t seem all that interested in Koo for most of the game. In one scene, a character suggests that Emma do something nice for Koo and after some consideration, she suggests petting him. Once again, there are lore reasons for her listlessness, which I won’t spoil, but it doesn’t change the fact that these scenes are so dull.

If there’s anything in Beast of Reincarnation that can be described as “cinematic,” it’s the combat. The parry-heavy skirmishes are fantastic. Enemies are deadly and aggressive, and can cut Emma down in a few hits. While it isn’t nearly as hard as something like From Software’s Sekiro: Shadows Die Twice or Neowiz’s Lies of P, Beast of Reincarnation can be tough–especially if you aren’t using the full range of Emma and Koo’s abilities.

The fundamentals are there. Emma’s slashes feel weighty, the clang of parrying a attack is gratifying, and her lethal blows are vicious. Like Sekiro: Shadows Die Twice, enemies have a health bar and a stagger bar. Deflecting attacks and pressuring enemies will fill up the stagger bar. Once it’s full, Emma can unleash a powerful attack that instantly kills a basic enemy. There is a dodge and a block too, but mastering the parry window is far more rewarding. 

Alongside Emma’s basic attacks, she has unlockable skills that can be deployed mid-combo for dazzling effect. These skills are themed around different blossoms and successfully pulling off one of these moves results in massive flowers blooming on the battlefield. Generally, these combos do significantly more damage than basic attacks, but they require some windup and leave Emma vulnerable. This means you need to study an enemy's patterns to find an opening. Combat, especially later in the game, is a spectacle. Flowers and trees spring up around Emma as she cuts down foes with style.

What separates Beast of Reincarnation’s combat from similar action games is Koo. By pressing Y or Triangle, time stops, and Emma can issue commands. These commands cost FP, which is accumulated by successfully parrying attacks. In order to efficiently take down tougher enemies and bosses, you need to be aggressive with Emma while juggling Koo’s FP and commands. Some of these moves may also synergize with Emma’s skills. For example, Koo has a command that can bind or stun some enemies for a brief period of time, giving Emma just enough time to follow up with one of her powerful combos.

The near-constant stream of new combos, abilities, commands, and weapons kept the combat fresh throughout my entire playthrough. It’s almost a little overwhelming as Emma and Koo’s individual skill trees grow larger and larger throughout the story, but I never felt compelled to unlock everything. Each branch and root within Emma and Koo’s skill trees supports a different playstyle, and part of the fun is mixing and matching these different abilities to fit into your playstyle. While the parry-first combat is at the center of every approach, there are dozens of ancillary strategies that you can lean into. For example, I heavily invested skill points into Emma’s Sakura Blade Art, which happens to be one of the longest combos in the game. Given its windup, I prioritized Koo commands that would bind enemies. Max Blumenthal, a video producer on staff, focused more on Emma’s Kiku Blade Art, which has a much shorter windup and more range. He also invested more heavily in Koo’s commands, finding ways to chain his attacks to great effect. 

This all comes together during boss fights. These special Malefacts, known as Nushi, tower over Emma and Koo. They are based on real-world animals that have been infected by the Blight. Root tendrils hang off of them and giant flowers sprout from their body. They are beautiful and terrifying. Most of these bosses have two phases, and pushed me to conserve resources and tap into both Emma and Koo’s many abilities. There’s an engaging back and forth of reacting to the boss’s attacks and applying pressure whenever you find an opening. Sprinkling in commands from Koo can extend those openings or exploit a weakness. Some bosses are tricky but none felt insurmountable thanks to Emma and Koo’s wide array of skills and commands.

The problem is that most of these bosses are reused in the second half of the game. They are a higher level, but their attack patterns are nearly identical. This makes most of the high stakes encounters in later areas a cake walk. I don’t necessarily mind refighting bosses, but it robs these fights of any tension and opportunity for further experimentation. I know which attacks to counter and when to use one of Emma’s skill arts before the introductory cutscene has finished.

As stylish as the combat is, it lacks the polish of its inspirations. The camera can be unruly, timing perfect dodges feels inconsistent, and Emma’s traversal maneuvers can lead to some awkward situations. Where the camera struggles the most is against large bosses. In order to pressure a Nushi, you need to get in close, but when you’re stuck under their legs, it’s tough to tell when they are swinging and if they will even hit you. Occasionally they’ll fire off an attack that can only be dodged, and if you time your dodge right, time will slow down, allowing you to counter attack. Nailing this timing feels good, but it didn’t always behave consistently. Sometimes I’d dodge well before an attack and it would trigger the slowdown, and other times I would time it right before an attack and I’d still get hit. 

You can also get around enemy attacks with Emma’s hair. By holding the jump button or right trigger, you can extend Emma’s root-like hair to reach new heights and cross gaps. These abilities can be used to close the distance between an enemy, get out of harm's way, or kick off aerial combos and attacks. It’s fun to weave these traversal skills into her moves, but they don’t always work as intended. At times her hair wouldn’t extend all the way, and other times I wouldn’t be able to grapple onto the endpoint to pull her forward. These issues are minor, but they add up and leave the combat feeling messy at times. 

Part of that messiness stems from Beast of Reincarnation’s inconsistent performance and visual bugs. I played a majority of the game on a PC equipped with an RTX 4080, and I noticed some micro-stutters and hitches at 1080p and 1440p. I can’t say how well it fares at higher resolutions, because it wouldn’t let me change resolution settings unless I set it to full screen--a setting that doesn’t seem to exist for me in the current build. Based on our testing, the PlayStation 5 and PlayStation 5 Pro seems to be the best option while the Xbox Series X has severe frame rate issues that Game Freak is aware of and intends to address before its release.

Beast of Reincarnation is an ambitious game that often overextends itself. The lack of polish taints its versatile combat, the mundane performances and wearisome dialogue suffocate its tantalizing story, and the uninteresting areas drag down strong art direction. That isn’t to say Beast of Reincarnation is a total miss, though. The combat, despite my nitpicks, feels and looks great when you’re chaining together combos and deflecting ferocious attacks. And aside from the cutscenes, my 25-hour adventure didn’t feel like a slog--I was eager to improve Emma and Koo’s skills to take down tougher enemies. But everything surrounding that core loop falls flat. Despite Beast of Reincarnation’s enticing mix of high-quality inspirations, it fails to reach the same heights as those experiences.

When you start a new game in Game Freak’s Beast of Reincarnation, a prompt asks if you’d like to play in cinematic mode. This locks the cutscene frame rate to 24 frames per second, but, understandably, leaves the gameplay as is. When I first saw this during my 90-minute preview session last month, it felt like a bold statement from Game Freak. Pokemon, Game Freak’s multigenerational smash-hit, can be described as many things, but cinematic it certainly is not. Unfortunately, aside from its flashy combat and a few cutscenes, Beast of Reincarnation isn't really cinematic, either. Flat performances and robotic animations undermine its fascinating story, bland environments sour its beautiful art direction, and an overall lack of polish hampers its intense combat. Though there are aspects of Beast of Reincarnation that I adored, for each one of them there’s always something that holds it back.

Beast of Reincarnation takes place exactly 2,000 years in the future, in 4026. After civilization was nearly wiped out by a phenomenon called The Blight, an infection that causes humans and animals alike to sprout vegetation, humanity transferred their souls into machines called golems to quell the spread. This inadvertently conquered death, but the relocated souls eventually deteriorated, leaving corrupted golems in their wake. The wildlife didn’t fare much better. Infected beasts called Malefacts wander the ruins of Japan attacking everything and everyone in their path. There’s a captivating history here that weaves together multiple science-fiction subgenres to create an intriguing world. The creatures that wander the wasteland feel biopunk-inspired, the aforementioned golem backstory is pulled from the cyberpunk genre, and the landscapes and architecture would feel at home in solarpunk fiction. Despite its many inspirations, Beast of Reincarnation’s world feels distinct.

https://youtu.be/erQ4lIW4Yo8?si=tohRNx3gTrRzvey2

This, in part, is due to the art direction. The futuristic technology juxtaposed alongside the overgrown ruins of Japan creates some memorable vistas that reflect the world’s alluring history. Emma, Beast of Reincarnation’s stoic protagonist, represents that fusion of technology and nature succinctly with her design. Her angular monochrome outfit is punctuated by a braid adorned with flowers that grows longer as she becomes stronger. It’s a nice touch that reflects your progress in her character design.

The plot centers around Emma and her dog Koo as they travel across Japan to reach the capital and hunt down the titular Beast of Reincarnation. Emma and Koo’s journey is frequently halted as they’re tasked with taking down a Nushi in each area--powerful Malefacts that spread The Blight. Each of these semi-open areas share a similar structure: You arrive, battle your way through the area, explore a little, and fight the boss. There are optional enemies to dispatch and loot to find, but these locales start to blend together after a while. Most of them consist of open fields with tall, green grass. As you get closer to the capital, those fields will be replaced with dry deserts. There are some interesting nooks hidden around each map, but it feels like a lot of wasted space.

There’s really not much to say about Emma. She’s a vessel, meaning she can absorb the power from enemies she’s defeated, but she is devoid of personality. She’s been told to fight and that’s exactly what she does. There are lore reasons for her languid disposition, but it doesn’t change the fact that nearly every interaction she has falls flat. In one scene, she robotically asks one of her traveling companions what love is. Her companion dryly explains that love is what happens when you miss people. This is made worse by deadpan voice work, static animations, and awkward editing that often leaves seconds of dead air between dialogue. The actors' performances are a little easier to stomach in Japanese, but the characters never escape what's largely dull writing.

This isn’t relegated to a few scenes, either. The entire script lacks subtext and nuance. Frequently, you return to your mobile base of operations, called a Cleanse Walker, to chat with your teammates. A young girl named Kagura who Emma saves early in the story tends to your base by cooking meals and managing resources. She happens to be just as dull as Emma, making their shared conversations painful to witness as the two emotionlessly talk about food or journals. There’s no energy behind their performances, the camera work lacks any creative direction, and they are always confined to the grey walls of the Cleanse Walker.

Ironically, the best character in the game doesn’t talk. Koo, Emma’s canine companion, is fierce and adorable. In one moment he’s lovingly looking up at Emma as they explore the world, and in the next he’s ripping out the titanium throat of a golem. He whimpers, barks, and even collects items for Emma. He’s an endearing companion with some charming animations, but Emma and Koo’s relationship never really develops throughout the game. We get some backstory here and there, but I never felt like they were forging a bond. Emma just doesn’t seem all that interested in Koo for most of the game. In one scene, a character suggests that Emma do something nice for Koo and after some consideration, she suggests petting him. Once again, there are lore reasons for her listlessness, which I won’t spoil, but it doesn’t change the fact that these scenes are so dull.

If there’s anything in Beast of Reincarnation that can be described as “cinematic,” it’s the combat. The parry-heavy skirmishes are fantastic. Enemies are deadly and aggressive, and can cut Emma down in a few hits. While it isn’t nearly as hard as something like From Software’s Sekiro: Shadows Die Twice or Neowiz’s Lies of P, Beast of Reincarnation can be tough–especially if you aren’t using the full range of Emma and Koo’s abilities.

The fundamentals are there. Emma’s slashes feel weighty, the clang of parrying a attack is gratifying, and her lethal blows are vicious. Like Sekiro: Shadows Die Twice, enemies have a health bar and a stagger bar. Deflecting attacks and pressuring enemies will fill up the stagger bar. Once it’s full, Emma can unleash a powerful attack that instantly kills a basic enemy. There is a dodge and a block too, but mastering the parry window is far more rewarding. 

Alongside Emma’s basic attacks, she has unlockable skills that can be deployed mid-combo for dazzling effect. These skills are themed around different blossoms and successfully pulling off one of these moves results in massive flowers blooming on the battlefield. Generally, these combos do significantly more damage than basic attacks, but they require some windup and leave Emma vulnerable. This means you need to study an enemy's patterns to find an opening. Combat, especially later in the game, is a spectacle. Flowers and trees spring up around Emma as she cuts down foes with style.

What separates Beast of Reincarnation’s combat from similar action games is Koo. By pressing Y or Triangle, time stops, and Emma can issue commands. These commands cost FP, which is accumulated by successfully parrying attacks. In order to efficiently take down tougher enemies and bosses, you need to be aggressive with Emma while juggling Koo’s FP and commands. Some of these moves may also synergize with Emma’s skills. For example, Koo has a command that can bind or stun some enemies for a brief period of time, giving Emma just enough time to follow up with one of her powerful combos.

The near-constant stream of new combos, abilities, commands, and weapons kept the combat fresh throughout my entire playthrough. It’s almost a little overwhelming as Emma and Koo’s individual skill trees grow larger and larger throughout the story, but I never felt compelled to unlock everything. Each branch and root within Emma and Koo’s skill trees supports a different playstyle, and part of the fun is mixing and matching these different abilities to fit into your playstyle. While the parry-first combat is at the center of every approach, there are dozens of ancillary strategies that you can lean into. For example, I heavily invested skill points into Emma’s Sakura Blade Art, which happens to be one of the longest combos in the game. Given its windup, I prioritized Koo commands that would bind enemies. Max Blumenthal, a video producer on staff, focused more on Emma’s Kiku Blade Art, which has a much shorter windup and more range. He also invested more heavily in Koo’s commands, finding ways to chain his attacks to great effect. 

This all comes together during boss fights. These special Malefacts, known as Nushi, tower over Emma and Koo. They are based on real-world animals that have been infected by the Blight. Root tendrils hang off of them and giant flowers sprout from their body. They are beautiful and terrifying. Most of these bosses have two phases, and pushed me to conserve resources and tap into both Emma and Koo’s many abilities. There’s an engaging back and forth of reacting to the boss’s attacks and applying pressure whenever you find an opening. Sprinkling in commands from Koo can extend those openings or exploit a weakness. Some bosses are tricky but none felt insurmountable thanks to Emma and Koo’s wide array of skills and commands.

The problem is that most of these bosses are reused in the second half of the game. They are a higher level, but their attack patterns are nearly identical. This makes most of the high stakes encounters in later areas a cake walk. I don’t necessarily mind refighting bosses, but it robs these fights of any tension and opportunity for further experimentation. I know which attacks to counter and when to use one of Emma’s skill arts before the introductory cutscene has finished.

As stylish as the combat is, it lacks the polish of its inspirations. The camera can be unruly, timing perfect dodges feels inconsistent, and Emma’s traversal maneuvers can lead to some awkward situations. Where the camera struggles the most is against large bosses. In order to pressure a Nushi, you need to get in close, but when you’re stuck under their legs, it’s tough to tell when they are swinging and if they will even hit you. Occasionally they’ll fire off an attack that can only be dodged, and if you time your dodge right, time will slow down, allowing you to counter attack. Nailing this timing feels good, but it didn’t always behave consistently. Sometimes I’d dodge well before an attack and it would trigger the slowdown, and other times I would time it right before an attack and I’d still get hit. 

You can also get around enemy attacks with Emma’s hair. By holding the jump button or right trigger, you can extend Emma’s root-like hair to reach new heights and cross gaps. These abilities can be used to close the distance between an enemy, get out of harm's way, or kick off aerial combos and attacks. It’s fun to weave these traversal skills into her moves, but they don’t always work as intended. At times her hair wouldn’t extend all the way, and other times I wouldn’t be able to grapple onto the endpoint to pull her forward. These issues are minor, but they add up and leave the combat feeling messy at times. 

Part of that messiness stems from Beast of Reincarnation’s inconsistent performance and visual bugs. I played a majority of the game on a PC equipped with an RTX 4080, and I noticed some micro-stutters and hitches at 1080p and 1440p. I can’t say how well it fares at higher resolutions, because it wouldn’t let me change resolution settings unless I set it to full screen--a setting that doesn’t seem to exist for me in the current build. Based on our testing, the PlayStation 5 and PlayStation 5 Pro seems to be the best option while the Xbox Series X has severe frame rate issues that Game Freak is aware of and intends to address before its release.

Beast of Reincarnation is an ambitious game that often overextends itself. The lack of polish taints its versatile combat, the mundane performances and wearisome dialogue suffocate its tantalizing story, and the uninteresting areas drag down strong art direction. That isn’t to say Beast of Reincarnation is a total miss, though. The combat, despite my nitpicks, feels and looks great when you’re chaining together combos and deflecting ferocious attacks. And aside from the cutscenes, my 25-hour adventure didn’t feel like a slog--I was eager to improve Emma and Koo’s skills to take down tougher enemies. But everything surrounding that core loop falls flat. Despite Beast of Reincarnation’s enticing mix of high-quality inspirations, it fails to reach the same heights as those experiences.

In the three years since Big Walk was announced, I've heard it referred to as a co-op walking sim, a puzzle-adventure game, and friendslop. After spending 20+ hours in the world of the Australian Outback-inspired game, it's no easier to succinctly define it, because it's not actually like anything else. By inventively stripping down the medium to its most essential parts, it invites novices and experts alike to build it back up from scratch, coloring in its mysterious world with their friends by their side. We need a new word for whatever kind of game Big Walk really is, but here's one for now: unforgettable. 

Big Walk is a game about walking and talking with friends, played in first-person for groups of 2-12 players. Embodying vaguely humanoid characters--think multicolored snowmen with long noses and noodly appendages--you and your friends will trek across a vast and open island, hunting down nameless MacGuffins by way of solving an abundance of inventive puzzles together. This intentionally basic setup belies the depth you'll discover the more time you spend on its island.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EWfg9iLq55c&pp=0gcJCaMLAYcqIYzv

Before you head off, you'll convene in a starting area that looks a bit like a playground or a children's gym, full of buttons to push; vibrant, sometimes bouncy objects to pick up and kick; and climbable surfaces. It's here where you'll learn most everything you need to know about what you can do, like all the gestures you can make with your body, how to use proximity chat to your aid, and how to deal with the physics of the world. For example, you may note how falling a great distance doesn't mean taking fall damage, but it may mean you drop what you were holding and lose it in a forest until the sun comes up. 

The first four puzzles act as a tutorial. In a more limited section of the island, you'll seek them out deep in the woods, high atop hills, or along beaches, work together to solve them, and unlock their corresponding MacGuffins, then place them in a console that unlocks virtually the entire rest of the island all at once. From there, it's your group's call to make, and your path through the world won't be the same as any other. 

Unlike Peak, which the game has often been compared to, Big Walk's island is handcrafted, not randomly generated, and it shows. Every inch of the world feels intentional, from the switchbacks down the mountainsides meant to give you the hint of a far-off landmark, to the radio stations you can come across, each of them playing their own special song that you can carry with you if you're in the mood for some music on your journey. Because there are so many puzzles, sometimes you'll even take aspects of one puzzle to solve others, and the game offers clever environmental hints when this is required.

In small ways, puzzles change depending on your group size. The host maintains the save data across sessions, allowing players to join or drop when they may need to, but different versions of the island exist for parties of two, three, or four-plus, with slight tweaks to each puzzle to accommodate the number of people in a group.

Some puzzles will be a bit easier with more people putting their heads together, while others will be much more chaotic; one of the first puzzles my group found was basically a basketball hoop with big bouncy lights as the ball, and if you don't easily tame a group of a dozen players, you'll all be knocking each other's shots away from the basket until someone takes command and establishes a turn order. 

There's a remarkable clarity to the visual language in Big Walk that's conveyed right at the start, but everything else there is to know about it is built on a foundation you make together with your friends, establishing your own vocabulary and body language in such an effortlessly cool, intuitive way that so many other games seem afraid of. Playing with two of my kids, we took to calling the dozens of MacGuffins "eggy things" because of their somewhat egg-like shape, and we called our characters "walklings."

As the hazy semblance of a story unfolded, we made sense of it in our own words. Big Walk clearly hopes each group does this. That's why it fills its world with fundamental video game objects and objectives, like puzzles and their rewards, but adds nothing definitive beyond that.

Big Walk's world speaks for itself. There are no quest markers or on-screen prompts, and no stamina or health bars to manage. Every aspect of the game is diegetic, and every discovery is of your own making. There's no lore dump or explainer as to who you are or why you're solving puzzles on an island that only your group seems to inhabit. Across its realistic-looking landscape are many more cartoonishly colored structures of all shapes and sizes that stick out by contrast, and developer House House trusts each friend group to carve out their own adventure through the world, letting their curiosity guide them and building on shared learning hour after hour.

Some puzzles demand you work closely together side by side, timing your actions just right or fidgeting with buttons and points of view, while others demand you split up, sometimes for long stretches at a time and across great distances. In those instances, finding each other afterward is its own sort of puzzle to solve. Many puzzles will inhibit your ability to communicate, like one where a player is locked behind soundproof glass and must relay information to the others that only the lone walkling has. There are probably only about six to eight core concepts the game focuses on, but each time House House returns to an idea, it adds clever new wrinkles. 

In one of the game's most devilishly designed puzzles, I was forced to wear a helmet that blinded me, leaving my group to guide me across a treacherous obstacle course with only their vocal callouts. Hours later on our journey, this same dastardly helmet showed up again, but with new rules that demanded I, as the helmet-wearer again, carry the right objects to their intended corners of an area, which meant our group needed to figure out which were the right objects in the first place, before I could even begin to follow their vocal instructions.

I can think of a few puzzles that were quite daunting, especially with a seven-year-old in the group, but none frustrated us. Often, we'd climb to a mountaintop to get a lay of the land, head off toward some vibrant structure in the middle of a wooded area, and fidget with its movable parts until we got a sense of what we needed to do. Through clear collaboration and our own invented language, we'd achieve success--sometimes quickly, in just a few minutes, but other times after much more head-scratching for puzzles that took us 20 or more minutes to solve. Every time we'd solve a puzzle, my kids and I would rejoice with a chant: "Egg-y thing! Egg-y thing!" while throwing our walklings' hands into the air together. 

Though the game is light on traditional story, it feels like describing many of its amazing puzzles is a type of spoiler. The ritual of genuine discovery, followed by cooperative experimentation, and finally, shared elation, is the magic of Big Walk, doled out with the completion of each puzzle, but even more often in the in-between moments when you're just chatting as you explore the outback. For a few hours every night, for about two weeks, this was our beloved ceremony together. We helped each other get our bearings, found each other when we'd gotten lost and separated, and commended each other when one of us would crack the solution to a puzzle wide open. 

Big Walk has a defined ending and isn't meant to be played forever, though with a different group of friends, it does retain some appeal. When we weren't playing it, we were talking about it, trying to solve some puzzles we'd set aside if they'd stumped us for too long, or crafting theories about the massive black orb that waited beyond a wall we couldn't (yet?) access. It's a game of few words, opting instead to give players a massive canvas on which to create their own story together. For a handful of special evenings, the island was our home away from home. 

With every few puzzles, major new rewards become available, like a train that moves around the island or a giant map room to help plot your travels. You may also stumble upon totally missable shortcuts, reinforcing that your triumphs are yours to celebrate and not based on any HUD arrow you've followed. You'll come upon helpful handheld items, like walkie-talkies, flashlights, and megaphones, but as best I can recall, such items tend to make some puzzles easier, but they're rarely required, so it becomes a question of, for example, leaving the puzzle to find a pair of walkie-talkies or solving a puzzle without them even if it would clearly help a lot.

Inventory space is limited to what you can carry in your hands, on your belt, or in your backpack, and anything you're not holding can't even be accessed on your own. You'll need a buddy to take that backpack off of you if you want to consult the paper map you may have stashed inside of it. This seemingly small design decision really speaks to Big Walk's main idea. First imagined during the COVID pandemic, House House sought to make a game that brings people closer to one another, to get them talking and having meaningful interactions. For me, it worked wonders. 

It's not often my kids and I can all play a game together with the same enthusiasm, as the taste preferences among a 37-, 13-, and seven-year-old don't tend to align. But Big Walk offers a gameplay loop that feels universal in its appeal. It deconstructs video games into their most foundational verbs: discover, experiment, prevail. The context of a mysterious island and the silly-looking characters you play as surely enhance the experience, but it's the simplistic gameplay loop taken to a depth that is exciting but never so involved as to leave some players behind that makes it so easily beloved. 

Though it leaves room for goofing off, Big Walk doesn't have the cadence of a friendslop game, where the purposely janky sabotage of your friends' best intentions is much of the fun. Some failures can be amusing, and the game as a whole definitely has an understated comedic tone befitting of its Australian dev studio, but the true highlight is the shared joys of exploring the world and overcoming its obstacles through thoughtful communication and teamwork.

There's a lot more stopping and thinking in Big Walk than perhaps its title suggests. You'll do plenty of walking, but you'll do even more talking, and if you're playing with friends or family you love and appreciate, it's bound to be a deeply rewarding experience.

It's also a well-polished game, with the only bug I encountered serving as an accidentally hilarious moment--when my daughter's walkling got stuck in a folding chair and we carried her around for a while like she was Cleopatra. 

The only noticeable knock on the game is one that demands some self-policing. Without using Big Walk's proximity chat, you'd turn its magic off like flipping a switch. Using Steam or Discord chat, for example, would act like a cheat code, circumventing a puzzle's intentional friction, such as when proximity chat is intended to fail at times, blocking you from easily talking to your group. So it's really on you to choose not to do that, or else accept that you've opted to make the game worse for yourself.

This is where it shares the most in common with more typical friendslop games like Peak and Lethal Company. The element of proximity chat does a lot of heavy lifting to make Big Walk shine brightly, so refusing to engage with that feature would be like playing a horror game with the lights on; you can still enjoy it, but you'll be holding it back from reaching the height of its powers.

Big Walk's incredible focus culminates in a final stretch of puzzles that encapsulates everything you'll have seen and done until that point in a genuinely mind-blowing way. My kids and I spent over a dozen hours together solving many difficult puzzles and inventing a language which we often relied on, only for the final iteration of the game's core concepts to be so slight in its adjustments yet so awesomely rewarding in its execution. It dared us to put together everything we've taught each other, recalling our entire journey.

I was utterly floored by the way this area masterfully fuses the game's repeated actions of experimenting and exploring with the undercurrent of its emotional beats that purposely rise to the surface toward the very end of the game. I loved every second of Big Walk, and this final act cemented it as one of the best co-op games I've played in years. 

As if that weren't enough to land Big Walk as an obvious Game of the Year contender, the very last scene of the game sneak-attacked me with a surprisingly bittersweet moment that left me glossy-eyed. I wouldn't dare spoil this part for you, but I'm sure it'll have a similar effect even if you're not playing with your kids. Big Walk takes fundamental and timeless video game concepts--obstacles and incentives for clearing them--and, through an intensely focused co-op experience, shapes them into something singularly rewarding, supremely mysterious, and totally unforgettable.

In the three years since Big Walk was announced, I've heard it referred to as a co-op walking sim, a puzzle-adventure game, and friendslop. After spending 20+ hours in the world of the Australian Outback-inspired game, it's no easier to succinctly define it, because it's not actually like anything else. By inventively stripping down the medium to its most essential parts, it invites novices and experts alike to build it back up from scratch, coloring in its mysterious world with their friends by their side. We need a new word for whatever kind of game Big Walk really is, but here's one for now: unforgettable. 

Big Walk is a game about walking and talking with friends, played in first-person for groups of 2-12 players. Embodying vaguely humanoid characters--think multicolored snowmen with long noses and noodly appendages--you and your friends will trek across a vast and open island, hunting down nameless MacGuffins by way of solving an abundance of inventive puzzles together. This intentionally basic setup belies the depth you'll discover the more time you spend on its island.

Before you head off, you'll convene in a starting area that looks a bit like a playground or a children's gym, full of buttons to push; vibrant, sometimes bouncy objects to pick up and kick; and climbable surfaces. It's here where you'll learn most everything you need to know about what you can do, like all the gestures you can make with your body, how to use proximity chat to your aid, and how to deal with the physics of the world. For example, you may note how falling a great distance doesn't mean taking fall damage, but it may mean you drop what you were holding and lose it in a forest until the sun comes up. 

The first four puzzles act as a tutorial. In a more limited section of the island, you'll seek them out deep in the woods, high atop hills, or along beaches, work together to solve them, and unlock their corresponding MacGuffins, then place them in a console that unlocks virtually the entire rest of the island all at once. From there, it's your group's call to make, and your path through the world won't be the same as any other. 

Unlike Peak, which the game has often been compared to, Big Walk's island is handcrafted, not randomly generated, and it shows. Every inch of the world feels intentional, from the switchbacks down the mountainsides meant to give you the hint of a far-off landmark, to the radio stations you can come across, each of them playing their own special song that you can carry with you if you're in the mood for some music on your journey. Because there are so many puzzles, sometimes you'll even take aspects of one puzzle to solve others, and the game offers clever environmental hints when this is required.

In small ways, puzzles change depending on your group size. The host maintains the save data across sessions, allowing players to join or drop when they may need to, but different versions of the island exist for parties of two, three, or four-plus, with slight tweaks to each puzzle to accommodate the number of people in a group.

Some puzzles will be a bit easier with more people putting their heads together, while others will be much more chaotic; one of the first puzzles my group found was basically a basketball hoop with big bouncy lights as the ball, and if you don't easily tame a group of a dozen players, you'll all be knocking each other's shots away from the basket until someone takes command and establishes a turn order. 

There's a remarkable clarity to the visual language in Big Walk that's conveyed right at the start, but everything else there is to know about it is built on a foundation you make together with your friends, establishing your own vocabulary and body language in such an effortlessly cool, intuitive way that so many other games seem afraid of. Playing with two of my kids, we took to calling the dozens of MacGuffins "eggy things" because of their somewhat egg-like shape, and we called our characters "walklings."

As the hazy semblance of a story unfolded, we made sense of it in our own words. Big Walk clearly hopes each group does this. That's why it fills its world with fundamental video game objects and objectives, like puzzles and their rewards, but adds nothing definitive beyond that.

Big Walk's world speaks for itself. There are no quest markers or on-screen prompts, and no stamina or health bars to manage. Every aspect of the game is diegetic, and every discovery is of your own making. There's no lore dump or explainer as to who you are or why you're solving puzzles on an island that only your group seems to inhabit. Across its realistic-looking landscape are many more cartoonishly colored structures of all shapes and sizes that stick out by contrast, and developer House House trusts each friend group to carve out their own adventure through the world, letting their curiosity guide them and building on shared learning hour after hour.

Some puzzles demand you work closely together side by side, timing your actions just right or fidgeting with buttons and points of view, while others demand you split up, sometimes for long stretches at a time and across great distances. In those instances, finding each other afterward is its own sort of puzzle to solve. Many puzzles will inhibit your ability to communicate, like one where a player is locked behind soundproof glass and must relay information to the others that only the lone walkling has. There are probably only about six to eight core concepts the game focuses on, but each time House House returns to an idea, it adds clever new wrinkles. 

In one of the game's most devilishly designed puzzles, I was forced to wear a helmet that blinded me, leaving my group to guide me across a treacherous obstacle course with only their vocal callouts. Hours later on our journey, this same dastardly helmet showed up again, but with new rules that demanded I, as the helmet-wearer again, carry the right objects to their intended corners of an area, which meant our group needed to figure out which were the right objects in the first place, before I could even begin to follow their vocal instructions.

I can think of a few puzzles that were quite daunting, especially with a seven-year-old in the group, but none frustrated us. Often, we'd climb to a mountaintop to get a lay of the land, head off toward some vibrant structure in the middle of a wooded area, and fidget with its movable parts until we got a sense of what we needed to do. Through clear collaboration and our own invented language, we'd achieve success--sometimes quickly, in just a few minutes, but other times after much more head-scratching for puzzles that took us 20 or more minutes to solve. Every time we'd solve a puzzle, my kids and I would rejoice with a chant: "Egg-y thing! Egg-y thing!" while throwing our walklings' hands into the air together. 

Though the game is light on traditional story, it feels like describing many of its amazing puzzles is a type of spoiler. The ritual of genuine discovery, followed by cooperative experimentation, and finally, shared elation, is the magic of Big Walk, doled out with the completion of each puzzle, but even more often in the in-between moments when you're just chatting as you explore the outback. For a few hours every night, for about two weeks, this was our beloved ceremony together. We helped each other get our bearings, found each other when we'd gotten lost and separated, and commended each other when one of us would crack the solution to a puzzle wide open. 

Big Walk has a defined ending and isn't meant to be played forever, though with a different group of friends, it does retain some appeal. When we weren't playing it, we were talking about it, trying to solve some puzzles we'd set aside if they'd stumped us for too long, or crafting theories about the massive black orb that waited beyond a wall we couldn't (yet?) access. It's a game of few words, opting instead to give players a massive canvas on which to create their own story together. For a handful of special evenings, the island was our home away from home. 

With every few puzzles, major new rewards become available, like a train that moves around the island or a giant map room to help plot your travels. You may also stumble upon totally missable shortcuts, reinforcing that your triumphs are yours to celebrate and not based on any HUD arrow you've followed. You'll come upon helpful handheld items, like walkie-talkies, flashlights, and megaphones, but as best I can recall, such items tend to make some puzzles easier, but they're rarely required, so it becomes a question of, for example, leaving the puzzle to find a pair of walkie-talkies or solving a puzzle without them even if it would clearly help a lot.

Inventory space is limited to what you can carry in your hands, on your belt, or in your backpack, and anything you're not holding can't even be accessed on your own. You'll need a buddy to take that backpack off of you if you want to consult the paper map you may have stashed inside of it. This seemingly small design decision really speaks to Big Walk's main idea. First imagined during the COVID pandemic, House House sought to make a game that brings people closer to one another, to get them talking and having meaningful interactions. For me, it worked wonders. 

It's not often my kids and I can all play a game together with the same enthusiasm, as the taste preferences among a 37-, 13-, and seven-year-old don't tend to align. But Big Walk offers a gameplay loop that feels universal in its appeal. It deconstructs video games into their most foundational verbs: discover, experiment, prevail. The context of a mysterious island and the silly-looking characters you play as surely enhance the experience, but it's the simplistic gameplay loop taken to a depth that is exciting but never so involved as to leave some players behind that makes it so easily beloved. 

Though it leaves room for goofing off, Big Walk doesn't have the cadence of a friendslop game, where the purposely janky sabotage of your friends' best intentions is much of the fun. Some failures can be amusing, and the game as a whole definitely has an understated comedic tone befitting of its Australian dev studio, but the true highlight is the shared joys of exploring the world and overcoming its obstacles through thoughtful communication and teamwork.

There's a lot more stopping and thinking in Big Walk than perhaps its title suggests. You'll do plenty of walking, but you'll do even more talking, and if you're playing with friends or family you love and appreciate, it's bound to be a deeply rewarding experience.

It's also a well-polished game, with the only bug I encountered serving as an accidentally hilarious moment--when my daughter's walkling got stuck in a folding chair and we carried her around for a while like she was Cleopatra. 

The only noticeable knock on the game is one that demands some self-policing. Without using Big Walk's proximity chat, you'd turn its magic off like flipping a switch. Using Steam or Discord chat, for example, would act like a cheat code, circumventing a puzzle's intentional friction, such as when proximity chat is intended to fail at times, blocking you from easily talking to your group. So it's really on you to choose not to do that, or else accept that you've opted to make the game worse for yourself.

This is where it shares the most in common with more typical friendslop games like Peak and Lethal Company. The element of proximity chat does a lot of heavy lifting to make Big Walk shine brightly, so refusing to engage with that feature would be like playing a horror game with the lights on; you can still enjoy it, but you'll be holding it back from reaching the height of its powers.

Big Walk's incredible focus culminates in a final stretch of puzzles that encapsulates everything you'll have seen and done until that point in a genuinely mind-blowing way. My kids and I spent over a dozen hours together solving many difficult puzzles and inventing a language which we often relied on, only for the final iteration of the game's core concepts to be so slight in its adjustments yet so awesomely rewarding in its execution. It dared us to put together everything we've taught each other, recalling our entire journey.

I was utterly floored by the way this area masterfully fuses the game's repeated actions of experimenting and exploring with the undercurrent of its emotional beats that purposely rise to the surface toward the very end of the game. I loved every second of Big Walk, and this final act cemented it as one of the best co-op games I've played in years. 

As if that weren't enough to land Big Walk as an obvious Game of the Year contender, the very last scene of the game sneak-attacked me with a surprisingly bittersweet moment that left me glossy-eyed. I wouldn't dare spoil this part for you, but I'm sure it'll have a similar effect even if you're not playing with your kids. Big Walk takes fundamental and timeless video game concepts--obstacles and incentives for clearing them--and, through an intensely focused co-op experience, shapes them into something singularly rewarding, supremely mysterious, and totally unforgettable.