Whenever I board a passenger jet to go somewhere, my stomach sinks and my brain says, "Well, I guess you're gonna die now." But the thought of flying is still magical to me. Whether it's fighter jets in Ace Combat 7 or TIE Interceptors in Star Wars: Squadrons, the idea of a hunk of metal flying through the air (or space) is an exciting, fantastical idea. Flight is very real, of course, even if a lot of science behind it can initially seem unreal. With the return of Microsoft Flight Simulator, a game that is built to mimic reality as best as current technology will allow it, I can wield that magic for myself, operating and flying a plane with the understanding that the actions I'm performing have a strong basis in real life. It is terrifying. And it is absolutely phenomenal.

Microsoft Flight Simulator's greatest boon is how easy it is to start experiencing the wonder of flight. It's a simulator first and foremost, of course--the amount of buttons, knobs, indicators in any one aircraft is staggering. Nearly all of them have a tangible function, too, and it's easy to see how the game could be used to train actual pilots to operate particular planes or navigate certain routes. But the first thing Flight Simulator throws up at you is a menu to determine your level of assistance--a whole manner of optional modifiers and notifications are there to help you get in the air or guide you on what to do and how to do it. At its most basic level, it's easy to get into the sky very quickly with minimal input using only a gamepad.

Microsoft Flight Simulator pushes you to learn more, though. The tutorial attempts to teach you how to read the dials and meters in your cockpit, runs you through basic flight theory and etiquette, and guides you on how to navigate your way through the air by yourself. While my experience with arcade flight games led me to choose a middle-ground experience that let me control the plane in a mostly realistic manner, I found myself very eager to learn more. I wanted to stay in the incredibly detailed cockpit view more often in order to try and internalise the meter readings. I wanted to know what all the dials and buttons did and when to use them. At the time of writing, I'm now at the point where I'm operating my plane primarily through manual activation with my mouse and keyboard, using a controller only for its analog stick, and I feel incredibly accomplished.

Whenever I board a passenger jet to go somewhere, my stomach sinks and my brain says, "Well, I guess you're gonna die now." But the thought of flying is still magical to me. Whether it's fighter jets in Ace Combat 7 or TIE Interceptors in Star Wars: Squadrons, the idea of a hunk of metal flying through the air (or space) is an exciting, fantastical idea. Flight is very real, of course, even if a lot of science behind it can initially seem magical. With the return of Microsoft Flight Simulator, a game that is built to mimic reality as best as current technology will allow it, I can wield that magic for myself, operating and flying a plane with the understanding that the actions I'm performing have a strong basis in real life. It is terrifying. And it is absolutely phenomenal.

Microsoft Flight Simulator's greatest boon is how easy it is to start experiencing the magic of flight. It's a simulator first and foremost, of course--the amount of buttons, knobs, indicators in any one aircraft is staggering. Nearly all of them have a tangible function, too, and it's easy to see how the game could be used to train actual pilots to operate particular planes or navigate certain routes. But the first thing Flight Simulator throws up at you is a menu to determine your level of assistance--a whole manner of optional modifiers and notifications are there to help you get in the air or guide you on what to do and how to do it. At its most basic level, it's easy to get into the sky very quickly with minimal input using only a gamepad.

Microsoft Flight Simulator pushes you to learn more, though. The tutorial attempts to teach you how to read the dials and meters in your cockpit, runs you through basic flight theory and etiquette, and guides you on how to navigate your way through the air by yourself. While my experience with arcade flight games led me to choose a middle-ground experience that let me control the plane in a mostly realistic manner, I found myself very eager to learn more. I wanted to stay in the incredibly detailed cockpit view more often in order to try and internalise the meter readings. I wanted to know what all the dials and buttons did and when to use them. At the time of writing, I'm now at the point where I'm operating my plane primarily through manual activation with my mouse and keyboard, using a controller only for its analog stick, and I feel incredibly accomplished.

It's been nearly 30 years since the original Battletoads, and my memory of it boils down to three things: 1) It was made like an Arcade coin-muncher even though it came out on the NES. 2) The toads' eyes bulged out of their heads when you got to a boss. 3) There are hoverbikes, and they are loads of fun right up until the moment you start screaming. The 2020 version of Battletoads isn't afraid to mix things up. It's a nostalgia bomb that takes one of the original's core tenets, switching between beat-'em-up and platforming gameplay, and expands on it, while adding cartoon visuals and some story that introduces extra depth. Some aspects of the reinvention fall flat, but Battletoads is playful and inventive, and worth checking in on for old time's sake.

The new Battletoads deftly channels its original vibe and silly conceit into self-referential ‘90's-style cartoon. The cel-shaded art and neon graphics are a pitch-perfect throwback to the Saturday morning cartoons a '90s kid would remember watching before and/or after playing some of the original game.

And like a Saturday morning cartoon, Battletoads is driven by a simple but energetic story. The toads discover they've been trapped in a hologram for decades and the universe has forgotten them. The story sets the stage for a lot of self-parody, which makes for some fun sequences early on, like a series of quick-time events where the toads get mundane, work-a-day jobs. But the self-owns wear thin quickly. There are some witty one-liners, but they often come off as more fun than funny. Occasionally, they just fall flat by being unnecessarily crass, like a scene with a gag involving a member of the trio wearing a saggy diaper. The '90s gross-out toy phenomenon was always part of Battletoads aesthetic--the toads' names, for the uninitiated, are Zitz, Pimple, and Rash--but it is one part I wish the series would have left in the past.

It's been nearly 30 years since the original Battletoads, and my memory of it boils down to three things: 1) It was made like an Arcade coin-muncher even though it came out on the NES. 2) The toads' eyes bulged out of their heads when you got to a boss. 3) There are hoverbikes, and they are loads of fun right up until the moment you start screaming. The 2020 version of Battletoads isn't afraid to mix things up. It's a nostalgia bomb that takes one of the original's core tenets, switching between beat-'em-up and platforming gameplay, and expands on it, while adding cartoon visuals and some story that introduces extra depth. Some aspects of the reinvention fall flat, but Battletoads is playful and inventive, and worth checking in on for old time's sake.

The new Battletoads deftly channels its original vibe and silly conceit into self-referential ‘90's-style cartoon. The cel-shaded art and neon graphics are a pitch-perfect throwback to the Saturday morning cartoons a '90s kid would remember watching before and/or after playing some of the original game.

And like a Saturday morning cartoon, Battletoads is driven by a simple but energetic story. The toads discover they've been trapped in a hologram for decades and the universe has forgotten them. The story sets the stage for a lot of self-parody, which makes for some fun sequences early on, like a series of quick-time events where the toads get mundane, work-a-day jobs. But the self-owns wear thin quickly. There are some witty one-liners, but they often come off as more fun than funny. Occasionally, they just fall flat by being unnecessarily crass, like a scene with a gag involving a member of the trio wearing a saggy diaper. The '90s gross-out toy phenomenon was always part of Battletoads aesthetic--the toads' names, for the uninitiated, are Zitz, Pimple, and Rash--but it is one part I wish the series would have left in the past.