A match made in Hell

The DualSense is my favorite current-generation default controller. I am a huge fan of handheld gaming. By rights, Sony's just-announced Project Q, a handheld console that appears to have all the same features as the DualSense, should be right at the top of my hardware wishlist. And yet I feel no warmth towards that little machine at all.

[caption id="attachment_362124" align="alignnone" width="640"] Images via EA, Koei Tecmo, and Valve[/caption]

That's because Project Q is not actually a handheld console. It's the latest and worst in a long line of "kinda handhelds," a trend that I feel pretty lukewarm towards that started with the Nintendo Switch. These are "handheld consoles" that primarily or exclusively exist to play home console games. They're neat. I love my Nintendo Switch. I'm sure I would love my Steam Deck if I owned one. But they don't fill the same space as real handhelds in my mind. And Project Q is the worst offender yet.

Portable, kinda

Project Q is a streaming-only handheld. Out of the box, it will use the PS5's remote play feature to stream games. In case you haven't caught on to the problem yet, it's this: the Project Q is being developed not as a console but as an accessory for the PS5. And it's not even an especially useful accessory.

Because PS5 remote play requires a constant internet connection, its away-from-home applications are pretty limited. Sure, you could bust it out at the coffee shop for some quick Returnal sessions, but if you're looking for something to leave in your bag and grab whenever you've got some downtime in your day, you're probably out of luck. You will also look like a massive dork using it anywhere outside of your own home because of its garish and gamerly DualSense handles (I like them, but they do not scream "things I want other people to see me using"). Beyond that, there's also the apparent 8-inch screen, which is a full inch larger than the Nintendo Switch OLED and Steam Deck. Those devices are both already stretching the definition of "portable" considerably, so Project Q may as well have left it behind entirely.

[caption id="attachment_382060" align="alignnone" width="640"] Image via Apple[/caption]

The largest elephant in the room here is that a PS5 remote play handheld already exists. A whole bunch of them exist, actually, and there's a non-zero chance that you're reading this on one of them right now. Yes, of course smartphones already have PS5 remote play. And it's quite good! There are also already a ton of mobile-ready controllers - as a matter of fact, the DualSense is compatible with iOS and Android devices. It's hard to figure out who the target audience for Project Q actually is, even before considering the still-secret price point.

Why should I care?

To be clear, I'm not a Sony shareholder. The good folks at Sony can make whatever bad business decisions they want. But I am someone who desperately misses the halcyon days of portable handhelds. If Sony insists on dedicating tons of resources to products that general consumers aren't really clamoring for, then I'd really prefer if they made a new Vita.

[caption id="attachment_372560" align="alignnone" width="640"] Screenshot via That Retro Video Gamer's YouTube Channel and IGN[/caption]

Frankly, I just miss real handheld games. Consoles that actually fit in pockets and games that are designed to be played on the go. I know those games are still out there - in the time since I last wrote on the topic, I've come to appreciate that there really are quite a few 3DS-ish games on the Switch and Switch Lite, and that the App Store is not as much of a wasteland as I had assumed. But at this point, handhelds that exist to put home games in your "pocket" (or, more realistically, your purse or backpack) are so popular that even the worst version of that concept takes priority over a new dedicated handheld. It bums me out!

I don't really like the idea of Project Q. I don't see the point of it. But more than that, I don't like what it represents. Hardware companies have been hammering home the idea that the dedicated handheld is dead for more than half a decade, and it feels like Sony is finally putting the last nail in that coffin. In the place of the PSP or PS Vita, we now have a tablet for nobody designed to play the exact games you can already play at home, but worse. Instead of honing handheld design philosophy, it feels like the industry at large just wants to get rid of it.

I am into the PlayStation earbuds though. I'll wear those.

The post Sony’s Project Q is the wrong handheld for the wrong time appeared first on Destructoid.

Pray return to the Waking Sands

Lately, I've been trying to coerce some friends of mine into playing Final Fantasy XIV. While I love the RPG bits of the game, I sometimes find myself shrinking away from the MMO parts, and I truly want to get a more social experience out of the thing I'm inexplicably paying a monthly fee for. The problem my friends are facing, though, reminds me a bit of a problem I was facing just about a year ago when I started my own FFXIV journey in full force: it's just... not very fun.

At least not without a bit of work. That FFXIV has a terrible new player experience is not a secret. You know that famous copypasta, about how FFXIV's free trial includes "all of A Realm Reborn and the award-winning expansion Heavensward"? Well, there's a reason Heavensward is described in terms of its quality and A Realm Reborn isn't.

[caption id="attachment_369719" align="alignnone" width="640"] Image via Square Enix[/caption]

But the thing that's so frustrating isn't simply that this good game starts off on a bad foot—it's that there is fun to be had early on in FFXIV. It's just hiding. It took me an obscene amount of time to start enjoying the experience, and if you're in the same boat, I thought I'd share how I got around to enjoying it.

Forget about combat for now

Here's the single most damning thing I can say about FFXIV: it is a combat-focused MMORPG where the combat is absolutely uninteresting for at least a few dozen hours. I haven't played every single starting class, but I've played enough of them to know that there's nearly nothing interesting happening in the average encounter until at least level 35. Even after that, the game isn't "fun" until level 50. I've heard from various more committed friends that it gets really good at level 70, but I'm still milling about in early Stormblood and having a solid time in the 60-65 range, so your mileage may vary.

This kind of endgame-brained design makes FFXIV feel really slow early on. The Main Scenario Quest line is plagued by ping-pong mission design, the kind of "go here kill this" nonsense that's instantly patronizing and uninteresting to anyone who's played a video game before. Since your kit is so limited in the early game, and since you're only rarely running dungeons that demand an actual understanding of that kit, these quests can feel totally unengaging on a mechanical level.

[caption id="attachment_361393" align="alignnone" width="640"] Screenshot by Destructoid[/caption]

I found myself having a much better time when I was able to dispel the notion of having fun with the combat, at least for a little while. Treating the MSQ as more of a visual novel experience that's curiously nested inside of an MMO helped me appreciate FFXIV's writing. Of the story I've seen, the writing is probably at its worst in A Realm Reborn, but discussing the "Worst FFXIV Writing" is like debating the "Worst Starburst Flavor." It's all pretty good.

Stop and build the roses

When I say I hate the combat in early FFXIV, you might wonder how I managed to force myself through so much of the game. Well, I mostly elected to treat "combat" as a minigame, a meaningless diversion from the real meat: crafting.

I adore crafting in FFXIV. It's such a simple system on its face but there's so much depth to it that it truly may as well be its own hundred-hour RPG. It's built around resource management between the crafting materials you're holding onto, the Crafting Points you spend to use abilities, and the durability of the thing you're trying to make. There's a constant seesaw mentality at play between ensuring that you're making something high quality and ensuring that you don't break the thing in the process.

[caption id="attachment_369720" align="alignnone" width="640"] Screenshot by Destructoid[/caption]

Once you start crafting, it's hard to stop. A lot of the materials you need can be procured most easily by making them on another crafting class (or by finding them on a gathering class—fishing, my beloved), so it wasn't long before I started picking up every single crafting and gathering class I could find. The main reason that I'm not further along in the MSQ already is that I simply cannot stop crafting. Once I forced myself off of the free trial, I found that it was also a good way to earn money (which I, of course, spent on more crafting materials). I've heard from folks who played the reviled FFXIV 1.0 that you could actually finish the MSQ on a crafting class back in the day, and if that was an option now, I think it would be handily and unquestionably my favorite game ever.

I'm not saying you need to love crafting to love FFXIV, but I am saying that it's a huge game, and there's a lot of surprisingly high-quality stuff surrounding the MSQ. If you really do hate A Realm Reborn, there's no harm in poking around for a bit, and there's almost certainly something you'll love somewhere in there. Maybe you're a master carpenter, maybe you're a fishing freak, maybe you're the Yami Yugi of Triple Triad—every Warrior of Light needs a hobby.

Patience, Padawan

To put all that aside, though, Final Fantasy XIV is still a narrative-focused combat game, and the narrative and combat both get significantly stronger as you progress through the MSQ. Again, I haven't finished the entire game, but everything I've played after ARR has been such a noted step up that I seriously think it's worth powering through the so-so bits.

That doesn't mean you should try to barrel through the MSQ while ignoring the periphery. On the contrary, the periphery is all phenomenal. But it does mean that if the MSQ isn't holding your attention, it's worth finding a reason to stick with it. Preferably with a crafting class on hand.

Final Fantasy XIV is available now on PlayStation and PC platforms.

The post How to find the fun in Final Fantasy XIV appeared first on Destructoid.

What are ya playin', stranger?

The remake of Resident Evil 4 is nearly here, and if you're like me, the release of a new entry in a storied franchise always gives you the urge to seek out context. Sure, you could just play Resident Evil 4—it'll probably stand on its own just fine—but why not dig into some earlier series entries to gain a fuller appreciation of what Resident Evil 4 represents?

[caption id="attachment_365615" align="alignnone" width="640"] Image via Capcom[/caption]

Of course, nobody expects you to burn through every Resident Evil game over the next couple of days. Frankly, most of them won't do very much in relation to RE4 (it is, oddly, one of the more self-contained adventures in the Resident Evil franchise). But if you want to fully understand where RE4 stands, both in the Resident Evil universe and in our own, there are a few titles you should at least take a look at.

Keep in mind here that I haven't played the remake of Resident Evil 4 yet. This is not an expert opinion as much as it is an outline of games that you should play to see where Resident Evil and Leon Kennedy have been lately.

The must-plays

[caption id="attachment_369553" align="alignnone" width="640"] Image via Capcom[/caption]

There are two games that are decidedly necessary in order to fully "get" any remake of Resident Evil 4. Those games are, of course, the 2019 remake of Resident Evil 2 and the original Resident Evil 4, released in 2005 and rereleased seemingly every day for the last eighteen years.

I don't think I need to explain why you ought to play these games. Resident Evil 2 tells the story of Leon Kennedy's first zombie-bashing adventure, and it also establishes a baseline design language for the REmake series. You can probably skip the Claire Redfield route for now, since Claire is off toiling in Code Veronica land around the time of RE4, but if you've never played it, you should get around to that route eventually. For now, you can just take a quick peek around the Raccoon City Police Department in Leon Kennedy's shoes to see how he went from rookie cop to gloomy action hero and to get a sense of how the REmake series currently functions.

[caption id="attachment_369323" align="alignnone" width="640"] Image via Capcom[/caption]

As for Resident Evil 4...well, it's Resident Evil 4. And the new game is also Resident Evil 4. I find that a remake is almost always more satisfying when it's accompanied by an intimate understanding of the original work. I'll admit to being an occasional hypocrite on this point (I love Resident Evil 2 (2019) and have never played Resident Evil 2 (1998)), but the original RE4 is readily accessible on modern platforms and it holds up stunningly well. You should give it a shot!

The should-plays

[caption id="attachment_369554" align="alignnone" width="640"] Image via Capcom[/caption]

You can pretty safely skip the rest of the Resident Evil series and get a robust enough understanding of where the RE4 remake is coming from. But if you've already blazed through the first two games listed above and are still hungry for more, why not play the two most recent Resident Evil games?

Resident Evil 3 (2020) is a much better game than most people give it credit for, and if RE4 is as action-heavy as it seems to be, then RE3 will also serve as a nice bridging of the gap. Leon's not in this one, and it probably won't have a profound impact on the RE4 story, but it might be worth playing just to gauge the level of mechanical continuity we're getting between these games.

[caption id="attachment_369555" align="alignnone" width="640"] Image via Capcom[/caption]

I also think there's some merit to playing Resident Evil Village for similar reasons. Between its rural European setting, its attache case inventory system, and its mysteriously friendly merchant, Village shares a lot of DNA with the original RE4. It feels, in a lot of ways, like Capcom's first pass at a Resident Evil 4 remake, and while I'm not sure how large the crossover is between the specific creative teams, I think there's value in seeing two executions on a similar idea.

If you really want to, I won't stop you from playing all the other Resident Evil games, too. Most of them rock.

The post What to play before the Resident Evil 4 remake appeared first on Destructoid.

The invisible controller

There's a prevailing modern philosophy in action game design that says that the controller should "disappear." You should feel like you're doing something when you press a button and the character on the screen responds. You should map "looking around" and "walking" to two different sticks because we look around and walk at the same time. You should put "shoot" on a trigger because it feels a bit like pulling the trigger on a gun. You should not have your character stop in place every time they ready their gun, because holding a gun does not incapacitate the legs.

And yet, Resident Evil 4, among the most celebrated action games ever made, breaks every one of these rules. It constantly emphasizes the break between the player and the character. The presence of the controller is always felt. The movement is bizarre and unnatural. In recent years, it's been subject to some criticism (IGN's review of the remake says the original game's star "struggles to get around as though he’s wearing an old pair of skinny jeans that haven’t fit him since his police academy days"). When the remake demo was released, I heard no shortage of praise for the new, more traditional dual-stick controls, usually accompanied by the phrase "they fixed the controls" or something similar.

But here's the thing: Resident Evil 4's controls were already perfect.

Feeling the fear

The first three Resident Evil games are often celebrated (and sometimes derided) for their bizarre control schemes. These are games about rookie cops and civilians tossed into the deep end of a zombie apocalypse. They're not sprinting through action sequences, they're scrambling when they reach for their guns. Of course they move as though they're being controlled by someone who can't see the end of the hallway. They're scared. The game wants you to feel that fear, and it communicates it by forcing you to fumble with the controller, by drawing attention to the inherent clumsiness of playing a video game and likening it to the inherent clumsiness of being terrified. 

[caption id="attachment_369322" align="alignnone" width="640"] Image via Capcom[/caption]

Feeling the controller is feeling the fear. It's feeling the limits on what the medium will allow. It's feeling what the characters literally cannot do, feeling the exact wall that stands between them and survival.

But Leon Kennedy (at least by the beginning of Resident Evil 4) is a different kind of protagonist. He's an action hero. The opening minutes of RE4 establish that Leon's here to save the president's daughter, and he doesn't care how many zombies and zombie-adjacent locals he needs to roundhouse to do it. So why is his movement so weird?

Trouble in kickass paradise

Resident Evil 4 is an "action game" in that its protagonist is an action star. When he's shipped off to Spain, he's confident in his abilities. He already shooed the zombies out of one police station, and he's been in Cool Guy School training alongside guys named stuff like "Jack Krauser" ever since. He's rolling into a new country with a shiny new over-the-shoulder camera that communicates confidence and grace.

[caption id="attachment_368170" align="alignnone" width="640"] Screenshot by Destructoid[/caption]

Then he runs into danger and totally freezes. Leon is out of his element in RE4. He's more graceful than he was back in Raccoon City, but as he quickly and aptly notes, he's not dealing with the same zombies this time around. He's learned a cool roundhouse kick, and he moves like he's in his own skin, but caution automatically takes over when it's time to open fire. He can feel the controller. When he's established control over a situation, he can smoothly sprint ahead and start throwing kicks and punches, but usually he's frozen in place, firing his gun with shaky hesitation.

The Resident Evil games have always been good at communicating character beats through control schemes, and RE4 does that expertly. Leon is a lot more comfortable here, and you can feel that comfort in the new level of control he has over his movement and his gunplay. But he's still scared, and you can still feel that fear when you feel what he can't do. The horror on display might be pretty schlocky, but it's genuinely effective at establishing tension.

Frightful future

I've played the Resident Evil 4 demo a few times. I like it a lot! But it is, at least in the small segment that I've actually experienced, a "good" action game in a way that the original simply wasn't. Leon Kennedy is right at home perfect-parrying his enemies, sprinting as he guns down cultists, and pulling off sick stunts without breaking a sweat. It feels surprisingly natural. In fact, I can barely feel the controller. I'm not sure if I love that.

[caption id="attachment_368981" align="alignnone" width="640"] Image via Capcom[/caption]

To be clear, I don't doubt that the Resident Evil 4 remake can capture the majesty of the original game. The remakes of RE2 and RE3 are both phenomenal pieces of design, and they both dramatically overhaul their respective original games' control schemes. I'm sure the latest remake will be just fine. But when I hear people talk about the way it changes the game's controls, as though these changes are both necessary and unequivocally "better," I just feel a little sad. Resident Evil 4 might have good controls now, but it also had great controls then.

The post Resident Evil 4 (2005)’s ‘bad’ controls were, and are, great appeared first on Destructoid.

Just a couple more weeks...

If you've got a PlayStation Plus Premium subscription and a desire to revisit Resident Evil 4 ahead of its long-awaited remake, you probably know that the original game is included in the Classics Catalog. But the version included in the Classics Catalog probably isn't the one you want to play.

See, the version of Resident Evil 4 included with your PS Plus Premium subscription isn't the 2005 PlayStation 2 port or the HD remaster for the PS4. Instead, it's an earlier version of the game released for the PS3. You might already be aware of this, but PS3 games in the Classics Catalog aren't emulated, nor do they run natively on the PS4 or PS5. They're streamed. And that's not ideal.

[caption id="attachment_368170" align="alignnone" width="640"] Screenshot by Destructoid[/caption]

The problem

The PS3 version of RE4 is simply not as good as the PS4 version. It runs at 30FPS, it's got slightly more awkward controls, and it just looks a little uglier. I'm actually not sure whether the visual difference can be chalked up to the older iteration of the game or its streaming status, but the fact remains that it's just not a great way to play the game.

In streaming RE4, I've encountered ugly, flickering textures, bizarre audio issues, and the kind of latency that often plagues these streamed games. I find streaming convenient for certain kinds of games, but for Resident Evil 4, one of the most revered action games ever, it's just not quite up to snuff.

What are ya buyin', stranger?

Thankfully, Resident Evil 4's been ported to nearly every platform imaginable, and it's fairly inexpensive everywhere you look. The PS4 version, which runs at a gorgeous 60FPS and plays much more smoothly from the jump, is only $7.99 at time of writing. You can get a similar experience from the Nintendo Switch port, which is $9.99 right now. It's also under $10 on PC and Xbox, and it plays well on all those platforms. If you've got some more money to burn and a Meta Quest 2 collecting dust somewhere, I'm quite partial to the VR version.

[caption id="attachment_368171" align="alignnone" width="640"] Screenshot by Destructoid[/caption]

All told, just about every currently accessible version of Resident Evil 4 is better than the one included in the PS Plus Premium subscription. Most of them are also only going to run you a few dollars. If you truly can't afford any of those options, then playing it on PS Plus won't kill you.

It's still Resident Evil 4, and it's still a great game. It's just not ideal.

The post PSA: You might not want to play the original Resident Evil 4 on PS Plus appeared first on Destructoid.

Everyone say "Thank you, Chris Pratt"

Super Mario Run, Nintendo's middlingly successful attempt to bring a full Mario experience to mobile devices, has always followed a freemium model. As of a recent update, the app appears to be leaning a little closer to the "free" side of that portmanteau than before.

The 3.0.27 update, released as part of an advertising push for The Super Mario Bros. Movie, allows players to play one stage every day for free. You can play that one stage as many times as you'd like during that one-day window, but once that window is over, the stage will be locked again.

[embed]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8BPTrwu8pn4[/embed]

Still not fully free

You still can't play all of Super Mario Run unless you fork over a few dollars. Only one level will be available per day, and not every level will become available during the event. The event also only runs until May 31, so this isn't a permanent change to the Super Mario Run model. Still, it's the biggest chunk of content that's ever been available for non-paying players.

Normally, only the first world, the Toad Rally mode, and the Remix 10 mode are available for free in Super Mario Run. All of those offerings are, of course, still available for free in addition to the daily free stages. For the duration of the event, you'll also be able to unlock the rest of the worlds without time-gated restrictions at a discounted rate. While the full game normally costs $9.99, during the event you can snag it for $4.99.

The post You can now (kind of) play Super Mario Run for free appeared first on Destructoid.

One console, two players

Pretty recently, a new expansion for Powerwash Simulator came out. I liked Powerwash Simulator well enough when I played it back in 2021, but this was the first time I was tempted to dip back in for more. That's because the latest update features locales from Final Fantasy VII, and the game added co-op a little while back. My girlfriend finished the original Final Fantasy VII not too long ago, so I figured this would be a fun way to spend a few hours.

Until I took to Google and discovered that Powerwash Simulator's co-op is online only.

Lately, I've watched this play out with a number of AAA games. Games like Gotham Knights and Pokémon Scarlet and Violet were total slogs, not just because of their poor technical optimization and bizarre design choices, but because I knew that I could have had more fun if I shelled out an extra $300-600 to play them with my partner. Both of those games heavily touted their co-op offerings in marketing, but neither of them offered anything for folks in the same room. Halo Infinite, a game I loved, would have been that much better if I could've roped in a friend without telling them to burn money on a new console or PC.

Where did the couch go?

I've always been a local multiplayer kind of person. My earliest exposure to video games was a Wii my parents bought to force family bonding. Super Smash Bros. and Mario Kart are good online, but I'll usually only break them out when I have people over. I don't have anything against online gaming (it got me through lockdown, and any friend of mine will tell you how often I pester them about playing Final Fantasy XIV with me), but I love local multiplayer.

[caption id="attachment_361397" align="alignnone" width="640"] Screenshot by Destructoid[/caption]

I especially adore local co-op. If I'm working with someone else towards a goal, I want to be with that person physically. Having the option for online play is always welcome, but if I can conceivably play the same game as my companion, in the same room and on the same screen, I'll always take that option. I recognize that games are constantly getting bigger, and it's getting harder and harder to justify rendering the same things twice at the same time just to satisfy an increasingly small group that cares about this kind of thing.

But for me, there's simply no energy quite like the energy shared between two (or more) people in one room sharing an experience. It's the difference between calling a friend and going out for dinner—sure, you'll find out what they've been up to either way, but sometimes you want to be in that space, sharing that experience together.

So as franchises like Halo, which was once known for its split-screen co-op, shy away from the couch-sharing experience, I can't help but feel a little sad.

Quiet revival

Blessedly, local multiplayer is down but not out. It's becoming more and more sparse in the AAA space, but indies have kept the dream alive admirably. Spelunky 2 retained the local mayhem found in the 2013 not-quite-original, and the Overcooked series has built its identity around intense, frantic same-screen sessions. It Takes Two recently became the only indie game in the history of the Game Awards to take home the GOTY prize, in large part because of its local co-op offerings.

[caption id="attachment_365200" align="alignnone" width="640"] Screenshot by Destructoid[/caption]

There are also still a few studios in the AAA space preserving the local multiplayer experience. Nintendo has been ruthlessly committed to keeping local co-op offerings available on the Nintendo Switch, a platform that initially sold itself, at least in part, on its two in-built controllers. Kirby and the Forgotten Land is an absolutely perfect local experience, and the more recent Kirby's Return to Dream Land Deluxe bumps the player count from two to four. Outside of Nintendo, Diablo 4 is slated to follow in its immediate predecessor's footsteps with a couch co-op mode. The most recent crop of Borderlands games offers local play on consoles as well. The scene isn't thriving, necessarily, but it is surviving.

All of these games also have online offerings, and that's a great thing. Not everybody lives near the people they want to spelunk with, and I will always advocate for better online options. But all of these games also recognize that there is a good reason for players to want to be near each other physically. Video games can be an isolating hobby, but they also have the capacity, as a medium, to force people together. I wish more games took advantage of that inherent strength of the format, but for now, I'm simply glad that there's still space for that kind of game somewhere.

The post I love you, couch co-op appeared first on Destructoid.

Not a whole drink—just a few sips

The Game Boy Advance is probably my favorite piece of video game hardware—I have, in the past, described it as a timeless piece of technology, and I firmly believe that people should develop for it forever. Thankfully, a thriving handful of independent developers appear to agree with me, and Game Boy Advance games are still being made. The most recent one of these to catch my eye is a delightfully charming idle business management sim called Sips.

[caption id="attachment_367219" align="alignnone" width="640"] Image via Jono Shields[/caption]

Sips, developed by Jono Shields, is an incredibly simple little project. There's only one screen, and all it shows is a chilled-out coffee shop. When you press A, a menu full of possible upgrades comes up. There are only nine possible upgrades, and in traditional idle fashion, buying one means the money will start flowing into your little business a bit faster, freeing you up to spend more money.

Why do I love this?

There's really not much "game" behind Sips. The project was developed as a part of the GBA Winter Jam '23, a game jam focused on title screens. As an aside, I adore the idea of a GBA-focused game jam; while Nintendo is finally offering GBA games on the Switch, I still feel like the console's abnormally short lifespan left it with an unfairly small library.

Anyway, because of the theme of this specific jam, a lot of energy has gone into making Sips into a functioning single screen, and mechanical complexity has been pushed to the background. It is, by design, a title screen with a game incidentally attached.

[embed]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_-KAU3bK1Y8&t=119s[/embed]

But damn it, that incidental game is good. Again, it's not complicated, and it's very small (I maxed out my upgrades in the space of an hour before restarting it), but it just feels nice. I've been an idle game fan for years, and so many of these games are focused on sapping your time that it's really pleasant to see one that gets out of your way so quickly. There's no prestige mechanic, no complex and layered currency exchange system. There's just buying and waiting, and once you're done buying and waiting, there's walking away. It doesn't sound revolutionary, but for a genre so defined by bloat, it's incredibly refreshing.

Oh, and vibing

Of course, this vaguely game-ish title screen is also very good at being a title screen. It's designed to emulate the vibe of hanging out in a cool independent coffee shop, the kind that has a whole bunch of houseplants and a cat. As someone who lives on a college campus, surrounded by actual coffee shops of that exact stripe, I can comfortably confirm that Sips captures that energy perfectly. And as someone who abhors coffee, I can also confirm that I like Sips more than I like going to actual coffee shops. The musical loop is as calming as a barely-overpriced mug of chai tea, and the pixel art is exactly the kind of Game Boy Advance visual work that makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside.

I like the game a lot as a lightweight diversion from heavier offerings, and I like it as a novel reminder that people are still working with a wonderful piece of defunct hardware, but I think its greatest strength is as an unassuming piece of lightly interactive art. The game itself is free, but for $2, you can get a version that trims away the already minimal UI and acts solely as a title screen for an imaginary game. If the Advance Wars remake is finally about to make your GBA obsolete and you've got a flash cart laying around, I can see Sips turning your old handheld into a tiny conversation piece.

[caption id="attachment_367220" align="alignnone" width="640"] Image via Nintendo[/caption]

You can also, of course, load it up on an emulator and simply vibe with it. The novelty of the "title screen" is a little lost in that format, but the game itself makes for a nice digital toy, a minimally distracting background buddy to keep you company while you finish some productive task you'd rather not do. Sips is the sort of unflashy mini-project that charms your socks off but frequently gets lost in the wash of game jam submissions. It's the type of game that doesn't set out to reinvent any wheels, or even to stand out in its genre. It's just a good time with no pretensions. I'm always a little saddened by how many miniature indie projects like this I miss out on every day, but I'm glad I happened upon Sips.

The post Sips is a brand new GBA idle game that I can’t stop playing appeared first on Destructoid.

Come on down to the Gold Saucer

I don't know if you've heard, but Final Fantasy XVI is coming out in a few months, and producer Naoki Yoshida has had a lot to say about it. Yoshida, along with director Hiroshi Takai, combat director Ryota Suzuki, and localization director Michael-Christopher Koji Fox had a very interesting chat with Destructoid. You really should go read it.

But I'm a little more interested in something Yoshida said in an interview with Gematsu. During that interview, Gematsu's Sal Romano asked whether or not FFXVI would feature any lighter diversions from the seemingly quite heavy main storyline—something like Final Fantasy X's blitzball. Yoshida responded, "We have some very dark themes that the story revolves around. We have countries at war—we can’t really have some blitzball matches going on when people are killing each other."

[caption id="attachment_366854" align="alignnone" width="640"] Image via Square Enix[/caption]

Hmm.

I disagree.

Let me make something clear before I dig into that: I don't think Naoki Yoshida, director of Final Fantasy XIV, hates fun. The man has spent the last decade heading up a game that's 50% world-ending, stakes-raising intensity, and 50% dress-up simulator. FFXIV features god-slaying and goofing off in equal measure. I know a lot of folks have already heard Yoshida's words and elected to paint him as an anti-minigame tyrant who wants to erase fishing from role-playing games. I don't think that's a fair representation of what he's saying here.

[caption id="attachment_361879" align="alignnone" width="640"] Screenshot by Destructoid[/caption]

That being said, I still think what he's saying is wrong. Yoshida appears to be suggesting that Final Fantasy XVI will be too bleak to sustain minigames; that taking a break to play some cards would be too severe of a tonal break for the game. In general, I find this hard to believe. Final Fantasy VII, a game about eco-terrorists preventing a rogue member of a corporate paramilitary organization from destroying the planet, has a nice long break in the middle where all its characters go to an amusement park. Final Fantasy XV, a game about a prince fleeing a war-torn nation, features some of the best fishing in the history of video games.

Plenty of grisly non-Final Fantasy games find space for minigames, too. The Witcher 3's much-lauded Gwent, blackjack in Red Dead Redemption 2—the list could go on forever. And many of these games are celebrated specifically for their phenomenal minigames.

Why do we love them?

So what is it that we love about minigames? And why, exactly, would anyone be disappointed when they don't show up in a game? After all, the minigames aren't the main appeal. If you just wanted to play cards, you could get Clubhouse Games: 51 Worldwide Classics for about $30 cheaper than Final Fantasy XVI.

I think the answer is simple: people like to be invested in a world. Once a game crosses the two-dozen-hour mark, its big, sprawling map can start to feel less like a massive world that needs protecting and more like an annoyingly large patch of land that needs crossing. Respite makes this world mean something. Taking a break to play a spot of Triple Triad with a stranger or cast a line with three of your best friends reminds you of what you're actually fighting for. Final Fantasy XIV's crafting and gathering classes serve a similar purpose—while not "minigames" in the traditional sense, they are a diversion from the core loop that enhances the player's attachment to Eorzea.

[caption id="attachment_366855" align="alignnone" width="600"] Image via Square Enix[/caption]

Of course, I haven't played Final Fantasy XVI yet. Maybe it's an incredibly depressing game where nothing is worth saving, and sparing some time for fantasy poker actually would kill that vibe. I doubt it, but, you know, it's possible. I think it's more likely the FFXVI team is coming at this game with a somewhat limited view of what a darker, more grounded fantasy story can actually look like (Yoshida's comments on racial diversity in the game certainly don't help).

I'm still very excited for Final Fantasy XVI. I love the franchise, and I've recently been dipping into director Hiroshi Takai's first game, The Last Remnant, which seems quite good in spite of the fact that it doesn't feature any minigames at all. Still, I find myself a little averse to the idea there's no room for diversion in a dark story. The real world is frequently very depressing, and we still find time to play Final Fantasy. I hope FFXVI can still wow me, but I will always be pro-minigame.

The post Actually, Final Fantasy minigames rock appeared first on Destructoid.

Exploring and excavating

In some ways, Metroid has always been a series about the tension between discovery and destruction. Nearly every tool in Samus' ever-growing arsenal serves two purposes: it helps her find something new, and it helps her tear it to shreds. Sometimes unearthing secrets is wrecking shop, as in the case of the series' iconic-but-divisive destructible walls. But Metroid is most interested in finding the line between investigation and annihilation in Metroid Prime.

Most would agree that the most dramatic difference between Metroid Prime and earlier games is the jump to the third dimension. This opens the door for all kinds of structural shakeups, but my personal favorite is the Scan Visor. With the Scan Visor, Samus can learn details about nearly every element of her environment. And it changes things considerably.

What can't you do?

I've long held that games are chiefly defined by their limitations. Every game is a set of restrictions, a series of things you aren't allowed to do. In Metroid Prime, for example, you may scan enemies and you may shoot them. There are no other points of interaction between the player and the characters classified as "enemies." You're not going to sit down and reason out your differences with the Space Pirates. That's just not the game you're playing.

[caption id="attachment_363377" align="alignnone" width="640"] Screenshot by Destructoid[/caption]

This is not an especially novel observation. While there's something vaguely melancholic about studying a creature before you destroy it, Samus has always been a killer. The game knows this: using the Scan Visor is mechanically identical to locking onto enemies to shoot. What's truly heartbreaking about Metroid Prime is the fact that Tallon IV once played host to creatures that Samus actually would talk with: the Chozo.

Scattered around Tallon IV are ancient Chozo writings that give players the best insight into the ancient race we've ever seen. We learn about their faith, their history, and their love for their new home. But it's too late. By the time Samus lands on Tallon IV, the Chozo are dead and gone. Samus can lock onto their history. She can target it. But she can't do anything else.

The surviving planet

Samus Aran is known for destroying, exploding, and otherwise incapacitating planets. She's destroyed SR-388, ZDR, and even the planet where she was raised, Zebes. But she doesn't destroy Tallon IV. In fact, after learning the planet's history, studying its flora and fauna, and discovering the culture that once flourished there, she chooses to save it. She discovers that the planet has been awaiting a savior, and she becomes that savior.

[caption id="attachment_362516" align="alignnone" width="640"] Image via Nintendo[/caption]

But this doesn't feel triumphant to me. All I can think is... what other planets needed saving? The Chozo occupied nearly every planet Samus has visited across the Metroid series. How many of those planets were awaiting a savior of their own? Was Samus meant to save Zebes from destruction? Most of those planets are Chozo graveyards, but so is Tallon IV — did the other Chozo want their graves protected and preserved? We'll never know. The game won't let us ask. Metroid Prime is not tragic simply because it's a game about wandering through defiled graves. It's tragic because it asks that the player consider all the other defiled graves they've wandered through.

A tragic fate

Metroid Prime takes place in between the first two Metroid games, which means Samus hasn't started on her path of destruction just yet. But the player knows what's bound to happen. They know that after the credits roll, whole cultures just like this one will be lost. We know bits and pieces of the history of ZDR, but we'll never feel so close to it.

[caption id="attachment_359263" align="alignnone" width="640"] Image via Nintendo[/caption]

In Metroid Prime, Samus plays scholar and soldier. She catalogs every piece of Tallon IV, learns its secrets and becomes its savior. But as players, we know that we can't keep this up forever. Someday, worlds will catch fire. Someday, we won't have the luxury of stopping to take in an anthropological view. Scholar and soldier will, inevitably, become solely soldier. Discovery will lose ground to destruction. Samus will continue to occupy these spaces, and she'll continue to learn their shape as they are, but it will forever be a means to a violent end.

Samus will always be a hero. That's foundational to the character. She will never burn planets to the ground just for laughs. There's always going to be a utilitarian trade-off to her decisions, and the Metroid games will always feel a little somber as a result. But Metroid Prime proposes a different, more thoughtful kind of Samus, one who examines her surroundings with a careful eye. That Samus cannot live forever.

The post Discovery and destruction in Metroid Prime appeared first on Destructoid.

Options, options, options

If you want to play a great 2D Legend of Zelda game today, the Nintendo Switch has you covered. With a Nintendo Switch Online membership, you can play any of the pre-Ocarina games, plus a handful of excellent Game Boy, Game Boy Color, and Game Boy Advance titles with more on the horizon. One of the very best 2D Zelda titles, Link's Awakening, is available twice — in addition to the GBC version on NSO, there's also an excellent 2019 remake.

[caption id="attachment_359260" align="alignnone" width="640"] Image via Nintendo[/caption]

But if you want a new 2D Zelda experience? You're out of luck.

Where did 2D Zelda go?

Since 1998, there's been a fairly clean division between The Legend of Zelda games. There are 3D games, defined by behind-the-head and over-the-shoulder cameras, and 2D games, defined by their top-down view. This distinction might sound fairly unimportant but it is absolutely vital to the way these games are designed. 2D space allows for more rigid, defined puzzles, which make dungeons dramatically more satisfying. The 3D games are generally more concerned with what's outside the dungeons, in the sprawling worlds. These games are frequently about the problems occurring aboveground. 3D dungeons can often be clever, but they're inherently broader and more open to experimentation, making them feel less like riddles anchored in space and more like ruins that stand between the player and a goal.

Both of these models are worth something, and they're both distinctly "Zelda," but they have different strengths, and they're perfectly capable of co-existing. The existence of Wind Waker did not erase the demand for The Minish Cap. Both of these games are considered some of the best in the series for entirely different reasons.

But one of these design philosophies simply does not exist anymore. The last major 2D Zelda game, Tri-Force Heroes, came out nearly eight years ago. The last single-player 2D entry will be a full decade old this year.

But... why?

At the moment, 3D Zelda has reached what many would describe as its peak. I don't personally adore Breath of the Wild, but there's no denying that it's perfected the series' broad, freeform energy. Everything in Breath of the Wild is open to experimentation and exploration. Even the dungeons generally have a number of different solutions based on how creative you're willing to get with the game's much-lauded physics system.

[caption id="attachment_365490" align="alignnone" width="640"] Image via Nintendo[/caption]

But where does that leave the tighter, more specific dungeons? Surely there's still a market for puzzle boxes with carefully planned solutions. Even when the series' 3D side is so rewarding for so many people, I think there's space to explore more conventional Zelda designs. I was, in fact, left severely underwhelmed by Breath of the Wild's dungeons specifically because they felt so three-dimensional, motivated more by occupying a space than filling it with challenging, thoughtful ideas. Solving dungeons the "right" way is often boring specifically because the game clearly wants the player to break it, to gain a more robust understanding of Breath of the Wild's notion of physical space.

Again, there's nothing wrong with this concept. For many players, it's clearly incredibly refreshing. But it doesn't represent the full breadth of what Zelda can be, and I really wish there was a more concise, less open game to accompany it.

Division of labor

Obviously, it might be an especially difficult time for Nintendo to focus resources on a 2D Zelda game. The next 3D Zelda game, Tears of the Kingdom, has had a famously long production cycle, one of many ways the game is following in Breath of the Wild's footsteps. But 2D Zelda is no stranger to outsourcing — Capcom has tackled three different 2D Zelda games while Nintendo handled their 3D counterparts, and Grezzo handled Tri-Force Heroes. Infamously, Nintendo also once trusted Animation Classics with the franchise, leading to the Philips CD-i games (this might not be the best move to replicate).

[caption id="attachment_362555" align="alignnone" width="640"] Image via Nintendo[/caption]

More recently, Nintendo entrusted Brace Yourself Games with the Zelda property for a rhythm game spinoff. But that was a side game. For a better model, we should look to MercurySteam's work on Metroid Dread, which occurred simultaneously with Metroid Prime 4's production. While one studio handled the next entry in the series' 3D lineage, another took care of the franchise's 2D roots. If this model works for Metroid, then why not Zelda?

I suppose what I'm trying to get at is simple: we could have a new 2D Zelda game and we should have a new 2D Zelda game. The Nintendo Switch plays host to some of the greatest games in the franchise's history, and revisiting those games is a great time. But seeing how things used to be really makes me wish Nintendo would take a glance back before diving into the future.

The post 2D Zelda deserves its Metroid Dread moment appeared first on Destructoid.

'Pin-Poké-Ball' didn't have the same pizzazz

The Pokémon franchise is no stranger to excellent spinoffs. Between the lauded Mystery Dungeon crossovers, the well-regarded (if seldom played) Pokkén Tournament, and, of course, the cultural juggernaut that is Pokémon GO, there's been a Pokémon game for just about every genre imaginable. Once upon a time, there were even two excellent Pokémon pinball games.

The original Pokémon Pinball is something of an oddity, even when viewed amid the eclectic Game Boy Color library. Released three years after the first Pokémon generation in Japan, and just a few months before Pokémon Yellow arrived in North America, the game was little more than two digital pinball tables with Pokémon theming. The two tables were "Red" and "Blue," and they were excellent.

Gotta catch 'em all!

The most unique element of Pokémon Pinball is its catching mechanic. The eponymous pinball is, of course, a Pokéball, so it figures that you'd be able to catch Pokémon with it. To do this, you carry out a couple of archaic bumper-bouncing rituals to make a Pokémon spawn in the center of the table, then you bonk that Pokémon in the head a couple of times to catch it.

[embed]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lEdGJvcs2Y8&t=533s[/embed]

It's not all that revolutionary — target-hitting goals in pinball machines are about as common as little silver balls — but it does wring some interesting digital charm out of a genre known for its tactility. When you catch a Pokémon, for instance, it's added to your Pokédex, which helps the player maintain a bit of a personal bond with their personal cartridges. As they say, you've gotta catch 'em all.

Pokémon Pinball finds a few other novel ideas in its Pokémon theming; certain Pokémon, for instance, can only be captured in specific areas, and your area is randomly selected at the start of a game. You can also trigger a totally different target-hitting minigame to evolve your Pokémon and further flesh out that Pokédex. It's full of charming concepts like this that make it feel less like a pinball machine in your pocket and more like a complete Pokémon game... that happens to also be a pinball machine in your pocket.

A sequel, kinda

A few years after Pokémon Pinball had come and gone, it received a sequel for the Game Boy Advance. Well, okay, it was a sequel in the same way Pokémon Ruby and Sapphire were sequels to Pokémon Red and Blue. Fittingly, the game was called Pokémon Pinball: Ruby and Sapphire.

[embed]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PoaHkawBCag[/embed]

The tables in Ruby and Sapphire are nearly identical to those found in the original game. Pokémon from later generations have been sprinkled about, and spaces that were previously occupied by static obstacles now feature more involved mechanical additions like a hatchery and a PokéMart offering small upgrades. The table is now a single scrolling screen rather than two distinct screens, and the physics engine and graphical quality have received a loving touch-up. In most respects, it is simply Pokémon Pinball but better.

One area where Ruby and Sapphire sets itself apart from the original game is in its bonus stages. The original Pokémon Pinball has bonus stages, where the ball is sent to a mini-table to achieve some simple goals, but they're all fairly boring (Serebii has a great list outlining them if you're truly curious). Ruby and Sapphire's bonus stages are leagues better, allowing you to play pinball-basketball with Spheals or hunt down an invisible Kecleon. These bonus stages hint at a rich iterative history to come for Pokémon Pinball, a franchise rich with potential to reimagine Pokémon in new and interesting contexts.

And then, nothing.

Unfortunately, since Pokémon Pinball: Ruby and Sapphire's 2003 release, the franchise has been entirely dormant. I'm inclined to chalk this up to the death of the handheld game, a concept I've lamented in the past. Pokémon Pinball is not the kind of game you sit down with for hours at a time. It doesn't look like much on a big screen, and its simplification of the "gotta catch 'em all" philosophy doesn't translate to home gaming quite as well as the genuine article. But if you have a Game Boy Color or a Game Boy Advance with a Pokémon Pinball game loaded onto it, you're guaranteed a couple of damn good hours.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_-KAU3bK1Y8

Even without a dedicated handheld to call home, I'd love to see Pokémon Pinball return one of these days. This year marks Pokémon Pinball: Ruby and Sapphire's 20th anniversary, and digital pinball technology has come a long way in the last two decades. I genuinely want to see the series make a comeback of some kind, even if that just means giving the same tables one more chance as DLC for one of the various pinball games on the Nintendo Switch. Hell, I'd be overjoyed to see either game on Nintendo Switch Online — at the time of writing, neither has been confirmed for the Game Boy or Game Boy Advance lines.

What I really want, though, is a brand new Pokémon Pinball game. For the last few years, Pokémon Pinball developer Jupiter Corporation has been near-exclusively developing games for the Picross series, and I don't think anyone would be too terribly upset if they took some time off from that noble endeavor. So hey, why not bring back Pokémon Pinball? Right after you bring back Pokémon Sleep.

The post A eulogy for Pokémon Pinball appeared first on Destructoid.

Leave some milk and nanab berries out for PokéSanta

Pokémon Day is nearly here! The ancient celebration of Pokémon, established in 2016, is currently considered the most important holiday on every religious calendar.

As department stores start hanging their Pokémon Day decorations, all eyes are turned toward the Pokémon Company to see what will be announced. Will Pokémon Scarlet and Violet receive DLC? Will they become functioning video games? Will we get updates from some of the series' many sub-franchises, like Pokémon Mystery Dungeon or Pokkén Tournament? Nobody knows! But I know one game we probably won't see is Pokémon Sleep.

Oh, man, remember Pokémon Sleep?

Think back with me for just a moment on the halcyon days of 2019. In late May, the Pokémon Company held a press conference where it announced a handful of promising projects. The most popular among these was probably Pokémon HOME, the Nintendo Switch alternative to the 3DS transfer service Pokémon Bank. There was also Pokémon Masters, a free-to-play mobile game. Both Pokémon HOME and Pokémon Masters are currently available. But the Pokémon Company also announced an app that is not currently available: Pokémon Sleep.

[caption id="attachment_364724" align="alignnone" width="640"] Image via The Pokémon Company[/caption]

When Pokémon Sleep was announced it was described as a mobile game featuring a "gameplay experience unlike any other," one in which the player would...uh...go to sleep. We never got another detail on the game, so it's hard to say what, exactly, it would have been. All we really know is that it was a mobile title that would have taken advantage of the Pokémon GO Plus+, a follow-up to the Pokémon GO Plus interactive bracelet that was pitched solely to make the Pokémon Company's SEO and marketing team cry.

The Pokémon GO Plus+ was also never released.

Where did it all go?

So will we ever see Pokémon Sleep? Will we ever get to see the Pokémon GO Plus+? I'm not certain. Both products were initially expected in 2020, and we haven't heard a single word about either of them since they both missed their deadlines. To be honest, that makes me a little sad.

Pokémon Sleep was going to be developed by SELECT BUTTON, Inc., the studio behind Pokémon: Magikarp Jump. That game wasn't an interactive Pokémon-themed sleep aid, but it did have a similarly silly elevator pitch—it was a Pokémon game about raising a Magikarp to jump higher than any other fish in the land. And it was great! It wasn't some kind of unsung masterpiece, but it was a goofy, pleasant diversion that I played quite a bit back in the day.

[caption id="attachment_364722" align="alignnone" width="640"] Image via The Pokémon Company[/caption]

I'm not saying Pokémon Sleep would have been a great game, if only a clumsily-named bracelet was sold at GameStop. In all likelihood, it would have been a fairly ineffective sleep aid masquerading as a mobile game. Still, SELECT BUTTON has demonstrated an ability to turn a thin, silly idea into a charming game. I don't know if Pokémon Sleep would have helped me develop a much-needed sleep-tracking habit. I sincerely doubt that it would have taken the world by storm the way Pokémon GO did. Still, I can't help but wonder about what might have been.

A glimmer of hope

If you, like me, long to know what a world with Pokémon Sleep in it would look like, then I'd caution against losing hope just yet. The game isn't showing many signs of life, but there's still a chance. Back in January, Dexerto reported that Reddit user milotic03 had spotted a recent patent filed by the Pokémon Company on the (now-defunct) Pokémon Sleep website.

[caption id="attachment_364726" align="alignnone" width="640"] Image via The Pokémon Company[/caption]

I've personally found it difficult to get too optimistic about this. Nearly four consecutive years of official silence isn't exactly promising, even if work is technically happening behind the scenes. Still, it's a sign that the Pokémon Company hasn't abandoned this weird, unnecessary project just yet, and I always want to live in a world with more weird, unnecessary projects. So when I gather around the hearth with my family, the way I do every Pokémon Day, I'll make sure to take a break between the traditional Pokémon Day feast and the jovial Pokémon Day caroling to offer up one last Pokémon Day wish for a Pokémon Day miracle.

I think I need this app. I have not been getting enough sleep.

Related: Pokémon Scarlet and Violet players unearth hidden DLC teasers that you likely missed on Dot Esports

The post Whatever happened to Pokémon Sleep? appeared first on Destructoid.

Not every Final Fantasy game is great, but maybe every Final Fantasy game is great

Last year, I visited Heinz Hall in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania to see the 35th-anniversary edition of the Distant Worlds: Music from Final Fantasy concert series. I don't love every Final Fantasy game, but sitting in that concert hall, with a comically overpriced music box in a bag at my feet, for a couple of hours, I did. And when I play Theatrhythm Final Bar Line, I love every Final Fantasy game again.

Depending on which games you want to count, Theatrhythm Final Bar Line, a mechanical celebration of the music of Final Fantasy, is somewhere between the third and seventh Theatrhythm game. I love the series — developer indieszero has an impressive understanding of what makes music interesting, and these games have always done a fantastic job of translating songs from the ears to the fingers. Unsurprisingly, the studio has done its thing once more, and Final Bar Line feels amazing.

Theatrhythm Final Bar Line (PS4, Switch [Reviewed])
Developer: indieszero Corporation, Ltd.
Publisher: Square Enix
Released: February 16, 2023
MSRP: $49.99

The first thing I noticed when I started playing Final Bar Line was just how much stuff there is. The game's campaign mode, dubbed "Series Quests", features 29 "Title" banners. Each of these banners features a series of quests (oh, hey, that's why they're called Series Quests) full of music from a single Final Fantasy game or, in some instances, a small handful of related titles; the shortest of these questlines features five stages, and the longest boasts 32, with most of them leveling out somewhere in the 10-20 range.

Immediately, I was worried. The last Theatrhythm Final Fantasy game featured 221 tracks at launch. My favorite indieszero rhythm game, Kingdom Hearts: Melody of Memory, features just 143 songs. This one comes with 385 tracks in the base game. Square Enix provided Destructoid with the Premium Digital Deluxe edition, which adds over two dozen additional tracks. Every single song has between three and four beatmaps corresponding to different difficulty levels. It's an absurd amount of content, and I was concerned that it would spread itself too thin by playing with this "more-is-more" mentality.

As far as I can tell, though, that didn't happen at all. I haven't unlocked every single track yet, but everything I've played has felt carefully crafted and meaningful. A lot of love has gone into examining Nobuo Uematsu's Final Fantasy VI soundtrack, obviously, but the same reverence has been applied to Kumi Tanioka's work on Final Fantasy Fables: Chocobo's Dungeon. It seems as though every song featured in Final Bar Line is there not simply because a higher track count looks good on a store page, but because the developers found something interesting in a song and wanted to share it with the player. It's incredibly addictive, but it's also very intentional.

https://youtu.be/3EktIGradBI

Paying attention to the little things

I think that's central to what makes Theatrhythm Final Bar Line great. Often, people will suggest that rhythm games can help a player become better at playing music — this is the philosophy behind something like Rocksmith, which uses rhythm gaming mechanics to teach players how to play the guitar. But Theatrhythm Final Bar Line has a different proposition: maybe rhythm games like this make the player better at listening to music. When tapping to the beat reveals something unheard in a composition, it makes the music itself better. Everything in Final Bar Line feels so good because it's apparent that the game wants you to experience the music through a new lens, not to play it on an instrument, but simply to understand the finer intricacies of the piece.

In laid-back Field Music Stages like Final Fantasy XV's "Somnus," certain notes require that you hold a button down and move the joystick, to feel the flow and understand why separate notes feel so connected, and why that connection translates into serenity. Battle Music Stages like Final Fantasy II's iconic "Battle Theme 1" ask that you tap and flick the joystick rapidly, to recognize the abrupt stop-and-start found in so much of Final Fantasy's action-oriented music. Some infrequent Golden Globes-level category fraud aside (why is "Aerith's Theme" considered a Battle Music Stage?), everything works astonishingly well.

It expertly tailors its mechanics to demand that you feel the music, and, more importantly, that you get it. The game wants you to notice the decisions being made in the composition, to appreciate why the soundtrack to a game is the way it is. When you unlock Event Music Stages, which show you moments from a game to accompany the tunes, it feels like you have a better understanding of why certain songs fit into their respective games, and why accompaniment is so important on a mechanical level.

[caption id="attachment_362844" align="alignnone" width="640"] Screenshot by Destructoid[/caption]

In addition to being a very deliberate, thoughtful meditation on how music works and how it enhances a game, Final Bar Line is also just fun. It's immensely satisfying to land a perfect chain, and every time I came up just a couple of notes short, I immediately restarted a track and tried again. I've taken to plucking away at Field Music Stages to wind down before bed, although I almost always keep myself up chasing a higher score. As always, indieszero is great at doling out dopamine when you've earned it and withholding it in all the most engaging ways.

The game forces you to understand the music, but it also encourages you to enjoy it. Between the (admittedly redundant) music player, the precise beatmaps, and the playful controls, it feels like it wants the player to see music as an art, a machine, and a toy. It's an enriching time and a fun time, a rare but potent combination. It won't teach you any real music theory, but Theatrhythm Final Bar Line clearly loves music, and it's hard not to feel and reflect that love.

Sorry, still not an RPG

I'm not sure if Theatrhythm Final Bar Line loves RPGs, though. If the beatmaps betray an infectious fondness for music, then the indifference towards RPG systems is downright contagious. There's nothing remotely interesting about the ability-based progression systems. As you complete levels, your unlockable doll-like Final Fantasy characters will level up, earning more and more abilities as they go.

[caption id="attachment_362832" align="alignnone" width="640"] Screenshot by Destructoid[/caption]

But actually "using" these abilities is a totally passive affair. Most abilities are triggered by simply hitting a lot of notes or getting halfway through a song, which you'll be doing anyways (this is a rhythm game, after all). They also don't feel impactful when they automatically occur — the only abilities that seem to affect the active gameplay are healing skills. Every other ability only changes what's happening in the "battles," so once you have a healer or two in your party, there's no real reason to think about that system ever again. The only time you'll have to worry about your party at all is when a track comes with a specific goal asking you to deal lots of damage or kill a certain boss, and even then, once you've swapped your characters out accordingly, literally nothing will change about the way you approach the song.

Of course, Theatrhythm Final Bar Line is a rhythm game, not an RPG. If I want a complex battle system that demands intensive player input, I can wait for Final Fantasy XVI. Still, it would have been nice if this concept was just a little more fleshed-out. As it stands, it feels like a vestigial wink at its parent franchise that doesn't say or do anything. It's only frustrating because the actual moment-to-moment gameplay feels as though it's saying and doing so much. When love defines the core, it's a bit of a bother that disinterest defines the surroundings.

More money, please

I also want to quickly comment on Final Bar Line's pricing model. For the most part, I think it's a pretty good example for rhythm games to follow — the base game is rich with almost everything a casual fan could want, the Digital Deluxe edition includes treats for superfans like alternate compositions and rearrangements of different songs, and future song packs will focus on other franchises. If you only want to pay for the base game, you'll get a full experience, and one that's well worth the price of admission. If you're the type who wants to shell out a little more money, you get access to stuff you'll actually appreciate. I was really glad to see music by The Primals, Final Fantasy XIV composer Masayoshi Soken's heavy metal Final Fantasy cover band. Most of the bonus content here won't mean much to a layman but will still be rewarding to the kind of person who buys a Digital Deluxe edition.

[caption id="attachment_362854" align="alignnone" width="640"] Screenshot by Destructoid[/caption]

But one thing bugs me: "Zanarkand" is exclusive to the Digital Deluxe edition of Theatrhythm Final Bar Line. Normally, I wouldn't call attention to this at all. The absence of a single track doesn't harm the value of a project this massive. But this song from Final Fantasy X is incredibly iconic. Where the other deluxe offerings are generally niche prizes for dedicated fans, "Zanarkand" is such an obvious crowd-pleaser that it was part of the encore at that concert I mentioned earlier. Locking it behind a second paywall just calls to mind Square Enix's other slimy business practices of late.

While the rest of the game reminds me of the best moments in the studio's history, this one element makes me think of the studio's penchant for NFT-shilling and FOMO marketing. It's a little detail, but it almost feels like Square Enix poking at the outer limits of what consumers will allow, and it just leaves a bad taste in my mouth. If you can get past the subpar RPG bits and standard Square Enix business, though, Theatrhythm Final Bar Line will reward you with a truly brilliant experience. It's a very good rhythm game on its own, but it also acts as a lovely companion piece to the Final Fantasy franchise at large.

Every Final Fantasy game is enhanced by its association with Theatrhythm Final Bar Line, because every Final Fantasy soundtrack is given definition and thus made more beautiful. As I've been playing Theatrhythm, I've been going back and revisiting some of my less-beloved Final Fantasy games — I won't name them here for fear of inciting war — and I sincerely appreciate those games more now. Theatrhythm Final Bar Line is a testament to the power of a soundtrack, and it's well worth the attention of any fan of Final Fantasy, music, or Final Fantasy music.

_{[This review is based on a retail build of the game provided by the publisher.]}

The post Review: Theatrhythm Final Bar Line appeared first on Destructoid.

It's been a very long time coming

I'm not sure when Radio the Universe first caught my attention, but it didn't look the way it looks now. The game's Kickstarter page went live in 2012, and backer rewards were expected to ship in 2014; that obviously didn't happen, and in the years since, I've gone back and forth on whether or not I expect the game to release at all. Developer 6E6E6E's updates have been infrequent and vague, and the last update to the game's itch.io page arrived nearly three years ago.

Part of me was very anxious when I heard that a Radio the Universe demo would be available during Steam Next Fest. I haven't spent a decade actively imagining the game, but I have been thinking about it for quite some time, and it's always tough for a game to live up to mounting expectations. The good news is, the demo for Radio the Universe is excellent.

[embed]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BXGc7QMHTXU[/embed]

Action, adventure, puzzles - the usual

Structurally, Radio the Universe isn't breaking any new ground, at least not in this demo. It's a top-down adventure game where you swing a big sword or shoot a gun at your enemies and, on occasion, at the environment. If you've ever played a 2D Zelda game, you know what to expect out of this one, give or take a dodge roll and a pistol. But crucially, the game iterates on all these ideas very intelligently.

Take, for example, the map. The map in the Radio the Universe demo is a pretty typical spoke-and-wheel affair, where new gear will sometimes open up new paths. The only real difference between this map and a million other top-down game maps is verticality, but that becomes a vital difference. The dodge button doubles as a jump button in regular navigation, which means that navigating single screens usually means finding a way over a wall, clearing paths, and creating new platforms to hop across. This doesn't revolutionize top-down traversal, but it does feel just a bit more engaging than usual.

Oh, and really good combat

One other way Radio the Universe sets itself apart is in its progression system. Instead of traditional experience, Radio the Universe has cells, which you use to buy new skills and upgrades. Cells can be found all over the map in little boxes, but the most reliable way to get them is to loot them off of enemies. Enemies won't drop cells if you simply kill them, though—you need to whittle their HP down to exactly zero.

[caption id="attachment_362286" align="alignnone" width="640"] Screenshot by Destructoid[/caption]

That lends a uniquely tactical bent to combat. You can just wipe out enemies by tapping the attack button, but if you want to make meaningful progress, you need to carefully consider which attacks you're using and when you're using them. Your standard attack deals two damage per hit, but a charged attack will deal three, so some enemies will demand that you weave it into your move set if you want their precious cells. Radio the Universe builds that concept out in some really compelling ways. If the finishing blow is a dash-attack, for example, the enemy will always drop cells, so if you can run the numbers quickly enough, you can guarantee a clean finish in every encounter. One gun deals damage over time, so if you're not feeling especially math-y, you can turn every fight into a war of attrition, where all your focus is on avoiding blows.

Making the right call at the right time is incredibly satisfying, and it makes progression feel very earned. When earning resources means going out of your way to tackle a more daunting challenge, everything feels a lot more worthwhile.

An alluring world

Honestly, I'm surprised by how much mechanical fun I've been having, given that I never really thought much about this game's systems. Radio the Universe's real appeal, and the reason I've been tracking it for so long, is its aesthetic. The game takes place in a gloomy, mysterious, and endlessly alluring world. The actual visual design is wonderful. Towers with cobblestone floors are populated by whirring machines, the opulent constantly ceding ground to the dystopic. Computer terminals trapped somewhere between TRON and Cyberpunk 2020 are littered about looming cathedrals. It's a real vibe.

[caption id="attachment_362284" align="alignnone" width="640"] Screenshot by Destructoid[/caption]

That atmosphere is aided by a slow, moody, ambient soundtrack. It's not the kind of music I'd want on a driving playlist, but it suits the game's needs expertly. Radio the Universe also features a handful of presently inscrutable cutscenes with some gorgeous art. They remind me a bit of last year's Signalis, a game I never fully "got," but one that I really loved.

There's undoubtedly a lot to unpack in all this ambience and design, thematically speaking, but the feeling that I'm overwhelmingly struck by is mystery. I don't know what's going on, and I'm glad that the game is willing to let me stew in that feeling. In fact, I wish the game was slightly more willing to leave me scratching my head. It's by no means a hand-holding experience, but every so often, a tutorial message will pop up that feels just a little incongruous with this otherwise open, bizarre experience. I'm not against a bit of explanation, but it feels a bit patronizing to be told to dash through lasers.

[caption id="attachment_362285" align="alignnone" width="640"] Screenshot by Destructoid[/caption]

A promising start

On the whole, that demo left me newly excited for Radio the Universe. I've been waiting for this game for a long time, and if the final product has the same satisfying combat and thoughtful world, then I imagine the wait will have been worth it. If you've had an eye on this one, or even if you've never heard of it, I highly recommend giving the demo a look.

The post Radio the Universe demo is a gloomy, satisfying marvel appeared first on Destructoid.

All of them, actually

I will never say no to a rhythm game spinoff. I am, of course, a loud and unashamed fan of the genre. I'm always down for more rhythm games, but I'm especially fond of titles that recontextualize the music found in other games. I think nearly every video game would benefit from a supplemental mechanical examination of its soundtrack.

But obviously, some franchises are more suited to rhythm gaming than others. If I were to make a list of the greatest video game series soundtracks of all time, it would probably include Metroid and Halo, but those scores aren't exactly full of toe-tappers. So while I would play a rhythm game based on absolutely any soundtrack, I'd like to outline the franchises I think truly deserve the Theatrhythm treatment.

[embed]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=T0IxUMu036k[/embed]

10. Shovel Knight

Jake Kaufman is a very prolific and accomplished composer. The Shantae series could easily have made this list, but limiting myself to one Kaufman-heavy franchise, I have to give it to Shovel Knight. These games, from Shovel of Hope to Shovel Knight Dig, emulate the strict and structured chiptunes of the NES era but with more contemporary musical stylings. These are perfect rhythm game soundtracks because they're stable and rhythmically readable, even to the layman.

Plus, Shovel of Hope has a couple of tracks by Manami Matsumae, and I felt really bad about leaving Mega Man off this list.

[embed]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UND5wgnIino[/embed]

9. Assassin's Creed

I don't play Assassin's Creed very often. It's just not my cup of tea. But I do listen to Assassin's Creed pretty regularly. A rotating cast of phenomenal composers has brought an awful lot of wonderful tracks to life. A lot of score pieces from the series' history are so driven and thumping that I can practically see the beatmap in front of me.

I'm particularly fond of the Assassin's Creed Odyssey soundtrack, and I've found myself finger-drumming to the beat of "Legend of the Eagle Bearer" more than a few times. At the very least, we deserve a shanty-filled Assassin's Creed IV: Black Flag rhythm spinoff.

[embed]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NH-GAwLAO30[/embed]

8. Undertale

Across Undertale and the first two episodes of Deltarune, series creator/composer Toby Fox has established a coherent and delightful sound to accompany his series' world. Like Kaufman, Fox plays in the realm of chiptunes, and his are especially earworm-ish.

Some of Undertale's bullet hell moments already feel like a carefully orchestrated dance set to one of the game's wonderful battle themes. Concretizing that comparison with a full-throated Undertale rhythm game would be pretty great. As an aside, you can get a pretty Undertale-ish rhythm game experience out of 2021's Everhood.

[embed]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DTLfV7Ru5VY[/embed]

7. Donkey Kong Country

We've gotten pretty close to a Donkey Kong Country rhythm game in the past - there were no fewer than three Donkey Konga games, and Donkey Kong Jungle Beat almost counts - but there's never been a rhythm game solely focused on music from the actual DKC series.

Across the first three DKC games, David Wise, Eveline Fischer, and Robin Beanland redefined what Donkey Kong sounded like. Just about every track from the series is groovy and pleasant. To me, the beautiful soundtracks are the number one reason to return to Donkey Kong Country. A game dedicated to those soundtracks would be a dream.

[embed]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ikQHkhL8YMM[/embed]

6. Guilty Gear

The precise inputs fighting games demand make them feel like natural siblings to rhythm games, but Guilty Gear feels particularly suited to travel between genres. Music has always been central to the franchise—series creator Daisuke Ishiwatari has composed music for nearly every franchise entry, and as of Guilty Gear Strive, every character has an independent absolute banger for a theme.

Guilty Gear is indebted to music on nearly every level. Characters like Axl Low take blatant inspiration from real-life rockstars, and there are probably more fans of the Guilty Gear soundtrack than there are fans of the actual series. A rhythm-based spinoff is an all-too-obvious pitch.

[embed]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nO3Ap0xOcAE[/embed]

5. Chrono

The Chrono duology will get a bit of rhythm representation in the form of DLC for Theatrhythm Final Bar Line, but honestly, I'm not sure that that's enough. Chrono Trigger and Chrono Cross collectively play host to some of the greatest JRPG music around. Yasunori Mitsuda is an incredible composer and his work alongside the legendary Nobuo Uematsu elevates the first game to incredible heights (the second one is pretty wonderful, too).

The presence of these soundtracks in Theatrhythm proves that they translate into a gamified context, so I think it would be nice to see them in their own game entirely. If you'll permit me to dream for a moment, I'd love a rhythm game incorporating some of Chrono Trigger's classic dual and triple techs.

[embed]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=e9r5hx47kxM[/embed]

4. Super Mario

I honestly can't believe this doesn't exist. If you ask a random person to hum a tune from a video game, good money says they'll go for the main theme from Super Mario Bros. There's no denying that the Super Mario series plays host to some truly iconic music.

After The Legend of Zelda got its own Crypt of the Necrodancer-themed rhythm spinoff, I figured Mario, king of the side-game, would follow close behind. But somehow, the series' soundtrack is still limited to cameo appearances in different rhythm games. I do want a Mario rhythm game, but more than that, I'm just shocked that there isn't one yet.

[embed]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=N8OHSXvneOE[/embed]

3. Celeste

I dig the soundtrack from the original PICO-8 version of Celeste, but the series' sonic identity really came into view when composer Lena Raine joined the team for the 2018 remake. Raine's music makes Celeste feel like a sincere musical adventure, and that feeling is only enhanced by the game's "B-Sides"—tougher takes on individual levels featuring brilliantly remixed takes on the original soundtrack.

Raine returned to score Celeste's DLC, Farewell, and she also wrote a couple of smaller tracks for the game's miniature PICO-8 sequel, Celeste 2: Lani's Trek. All of this music is phenomenal, and all of it would be as well-suited to a rhythm game as it is to a series of precision platformers.

[embed]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=55uDJ39W4i0[/embed]

2. Sonic the Hedgehog

I'm not even gonna write anything for this one. Just listen to it.

[embed]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9XV7TeThdVA[/embed]

1. Nier

Like the Chrono games, the Nier series will be featured in Theatrhythm Final Bar Line, but it deserves an awful lot more. Composer Keiichi Okabe's work is responsible for at least a solid 40% of my personal fondness for Nier, and I don't think it's a stretch to call it some of the best video game music ever. Okabe's work is often melancholy and complex, but it's also frequently catchy and light.

The music of Nier is truly brilliant. I'd love to see it paired with a set of mechanics specifically built around it. The only issue I can see with this plan is that I would probably never play anything else again.

The post 10 video game franchises that deserve rhythm games appeared first on Destructoid.

Snag a sizable discount on a pricey game

We've seen the video game pricing debate play out time and again. Every time a studio bumps up the price of a major release, people comment on how things are getting out of hand, other people counter that video game prices actually rise very slowly relative to other luxury goods, and so on and so forth. Unsurprisingly, when Nintendo revealed that The Legend of Zelda: Tears of the Kingdom would retail for $69.99, this debate returned. The good news is, you probably don't actually need to pay $69.99 for Tears of the Kingdom.

[embed]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fYZuiFDQwQw[/embed]

Last week, Nintendo brought back Nintendo Switch Game Vouchers, a discount system that essentially allows Nintendo Switch Online customers to purchase two games for a total of $99.98. Most voucher-eligible games cost $59.99, meaning that you'll usually save twenty bucks going the voucher route. The Legend of Zelda: Tears of the Kingdom, with its heftier price tag, is actually included in the voucher program. That means that if you've got your eye on a second Switch game (Advance Wars 1+2: Re-Boot Camp, anyone?), you can save a total of $30 by buying it alongside Tears of the Kingdom.

Obviously, it's a bit of an inelegant solution. You can hold onto your vouchers for 12 months from date of purchase, but if you're only interested in buying the sequel to Breath of the Wild, then you'll actually end up overspending by $30 for a purchase you might never make. If you want to buy the game physically, you'll be stuck scouring retailers for discounts at launch, and if you're not subscribed to Nintendo Switch Online, then you can't take advantage of this offer at all. Still, for an awful lot of Nintendo Switch owners, this will act as a pretty substantial discount, and it makes that $70 pill just a little easier to swallow.

For whatever it's worth, though, I would gladly trade in my Game Vouchers for the return of Nintendo Selects. I miss you so much, Nintendo Selects.

The post PSA: You can get a Zelda: Tears of the Kingdom discount with a Switch voucher appeared first on Destructoid.

Uh-oh, other people

Final Fantasy XIV is an MMORPG. I knew this before I started playing it, and I also knew that the second "M" in that acronym would represent a problem for me. I don't play a lot of MMOs specifically because they require a team. A party of other players is necessary to run dungeons and make meaningful progress. I don't have many friends willing to commit to an MMO, so that party is almost always comprised of strangers. And when strangers are relying on me, I tend to get really anxious really fast.

The basic idea of an online game isn't what stresses me out. I play plenty of online games. I don't mind trying something like Magic the Gathering Arena or Halo Infinite's FFA Slayer mode, where I only have myself to worry about when I inevitably faceplant. I'll even occasionally dip into Guilty Gear Strive's online modes despite being one of the worst Guilty Gear Strive players in the world. The second I'm responsible for someone else's success or failure, though, I'm a mess.

That's where the Final Fantasy XIV Duty Support system comes in.

[caption id="attachment_361395" align="alignnone" width="640"] Screenshot by Destructoid[/caption]

Lonely little me

Final Fantasy XIV's third expansion, Shadowbringers, introduced a system called Trust, which would allow players to run dungeons from the Shadowbringers Main Scenario questline with a party of NPCs. The Trust System was well-regarded and led to the frequent refrain that FFXIV was now a "great single-player game," which is a questionable claim at best.

Trust made its triumphant return in Endwalker, but more importantly for me, Endwalker introduced Duty Support. The Duty Support System is very similar to the Trust System. It lets the player run pre-Shadowbringers MSQ dungeons with a party of NPCs. Duty Support dungeons are a bit less involved than Trust dungeons since those dungeons weren't designed with the system in mind, but they're still massively important.

[caption id="attachment_361399" align="alignnone" width="640"] Screenshot by Destructoid[/caption]

When I started playing FFXIV, I was at my absolute most anxious. It was my first MMO ever, and I was pretty much lost. When it came time to run dungeons, I nearly walked away from the game entirely. I'm embarrassed to admit it, but I was sincerely scared to play the game with other people.

Alleviating anxiety

By the time I started FFXIV, Duty Support was already available for dungeons in every expansion except Stormblood. This meant that I had the chance to run dungeons in A Realm Reborn on my own. So that I did...and, honestly, it wasn't very fun. I found the combat remarkably bland and clunky in the overworld, and my gripes only got worse in the dungeons. But I never would have done these dungeons at all with other people, so the Duty Support system got me to experience something I otherwise wouldn't have, and that's worth something.

[caption id="attachment_361397" align="alignnone" width="1200"] Screenshot by Destructoid[/caption]

They also let me actually progress through A Realm Reborn. I think the entire campaign is basically terrible, but if I hadn't stuck with it, I never would have discovered the things that I actually like about FFXIV. I never would've picked up crafting or gathering classes if I wasn't already invested in my character, and I never would've gotten invested in my character if I couldn't run dungeons.

Duty Support also is also handy for learning new jobs. Some classes are very confusing, and I find that dungeons are a good place to learn your rotation. Even if the combat isn't all that fun on its own, a lot of jobs have very interesting questlines associated with them. It's worth learning the ropes, and having a place to do just that without worrying about other people judging your single-pulls is nice.

[caption id="attachment_361402" align="alignnone" width="1200"] Screenshot by Destructoid[/caption]

A sociable future

After I ran my first few Duty Support dungeons, I actually felt empowered to start engaging with the game on its social terms. Some dungeons and encounters are multiplayer-only, but even when I had the choice, I started actively opting for random party match-ups during the MSQ. I found myself enjoying the game a lot more. Like I said before, Final Fantasy XIV is not a great single-player game–combat feels really weird unless it's executed in conjunction with other players. Sure, the NPC companions will do the task, but being able to talk through strategies with other players and see how they approach problems really highlights the strength of the Tank/DPS/Healer combo.

I've found that other FFXIV players are actually incredibly friendly. This is something I had been told before I started playing, but it didn't do anything to make me feel much better. Once Duty Support finally convinced me to run dungeons as they were designed, I found an uncommonly kind community. Generally, suboptimal play isn't chastised; it's corrected, and I found myself getting better at the game because of that. I never would have ended up discovering what's actually fun about FFXIV without Duty Support. In fact, I probably would have dropped the game entirely.

[caption id="attachment_361396" align="alignnone" width="640"] Screenshot by Destructoid[/caption]

Duty Support does not turn Final Fantasy XIV into a good single-player game. When judged on those terms, it will always come up short next to actual Final Fantasy games that are designed around a single-player experience. However, Duty Support does turn Final Fantasy XIV into a better multiplayer game. By providing a low-stakes environment where players can practice, or where they can simply progress when they don't feel like interacting with other people, the Duty Support system makes socializing a choice rather than a chore. It makes every interaction automatically more pleasant. It's a very simple addition to a very complex game, but it might be my single favorite mechanic in FFXIV.

The post I love Final Fantasy XIV’s Duty Support system appeared first on Destructoid.

The future of fantasy

Remember that big old GeForce NOW leak from 2021? The one that supposedly revealed a list of in-development projects at various AAA studios? I've been thinking about that leak for just over a year now. More specifically, I've been thinking about one title on that list: a remake of Final Fantasy IX.

Recently, another, much less reputable rumor surfaced on 4chan (the thread has since been deleted, but its contents are cataloged on Reddit), suggesting that the Final Fantasy IX remake's announcement is imminent. I'm not sure whether or not I believe that rumor, but it got me pondering the prospect of this FFIX remake again. Do we need a remake of Final Fantasy IX at this point?

[caption id="attachment_360374" align="alignnone" width="640"] Image via Square Enix[/caption]

Well, the short answer is, no, we don't. The long answer is, no, we don't... but I certainly wouldn't say no to one.

A personal favorite

Final Fantasy IX is one of my favorite Final Fantasy games. I played it for the first time within the last couple of years, and it holds up astonishingly well. It's available on modern platforms for cheap, it doesn't make any egregiously dated design decisions, it looks and sounds amazing - I'd go so far as to say it's one of the best games you can play on current-generation consoles and modern PCs. It is decidedly not in need of a remake.

But I want to put Final Fantasy IX in perspective. It was the last Final Fantasy game on the original PlayStation, and that's an interesting place for it to be. Final Fantasy VII and Final Fantasy VIII were both games about rude dudes with lots of 'tude, badass leading men in cool jackets occupying distinctly cool worlds.

[caption id="attachment_360376" align="alignnone" width="640"] Image via Square Enix[/caption]

Final Fantasy IX was - I say this with all the affection in the world - dorky. Steiner's armor is not an epic tactical suit of some kind, it's just a big slab of molded metal. One of the party members is a straight-up princess from a far-off kingdom. Where other Final Fantasy games of the time were so eager to push into a sci-fi future, FFIX was content to chill out with the vaguely European high-fantasy aesthetics of its NES ancestors.

FFIX is also uncommonly chill. Even when it inches into the realm of sci-fi in its weirdly introspective final act, its characters are less self-serious than those found in other FF games of the time. Its tragedies are softer, its colors more vibrant. It just has a nice, cozy vibe about it.

Why does that matter?

I think that we're currently in another "badass" era of Final Fantasy. The last two numbered FF games both occupy the same general space; one is about a bachelor party with a cool flying Cadillac and the other is a literal remake(-ish) of Final Fantasy VII. They're both pretty good at representing "chilled-out" Final Fantasy (FFXV in particular is very vibey), but they're just not quite on the right wavelength.

The forthcoming Final Fantasy XVI looks like it'll embrace high fantasy, but with much less of the cozy downtime found in Final Fantasy IX and much more little brother death and god-fighting. Final Fantasy XIV is... listen, I don't want to make anyone mad, so I'm not going to go in-depth on my Final Fantasy XIV thoughts. It's fine. It's pretty good. Eric Van Allen really likes it, and he's way smarter than me.

[caption id="attachment_358170" align="alignnone" width="640"] Screenshot via Destructoid[/caption]

I am desperate for a new Final Fantasy game that feels like Final Fantasy IX. Ideally, I'd like that to be a new game (Chained Echoes is almost scratching the itch), but I would also welcome the chance to just chill with my old FFIX party again. I like the badass Final Fantasy games a lot, but they only represent half of what I love about the series. Obviously I can just play other games - the aforementioned Chained Echoes is great, and I've dipped in and out of Atelier Ryza - but I adore Final Fantasy for its tonal diversity.

I'd love to see more of the things I love about these games represented by the modern Final Fantasy landscape. A Final Fantasy VII Remake for when I want to disappear into a very cool world with very interesting storytelling flourishes, and a Final Fantasy IX Remake for when I want the video game equivalent of a blanket and a cup of tea.

But my enthusiasm for a Final Fantasy IX remake is almost entirely contingent on one name.

Hey, what's Ito been up to?

Hiroyuki Ito is one of the best Final Fantasy directors of all time. He directed Final Fantasy VI, which many consider to be the single best entry in the series. He designed the battle system in Final Fantasy VIII, which is actually good, and I'm willing to fight about it. He directed Final Fantasy IX, a game that I like so much that I'm writing about it right now! He directed Final Fantasy XII, another top contender for "best in the series."

And then, he... kinda disappeared. For about fifteen years after the release of Final Fantasy XII, Ito didn't have a single director credit. His sole design credit was on Deadman's Cross, a middlingly-received PlayStation Vita deckbuilder. Ito wouldn't make his triumphant return to the director's chair until 2021's Dungeon Encounters. And guess what? Dungeon Encounters owns.

[caption id="attachment_360378" align="alignnone" width="640"] Image via Square Enix[/caption]

I firmly believe that Hiroyuki Ito's most recent game is the best thing he's ever worked on. It's a stripped-down, combat-forward JRPG with almost no written plot, and it's better than any Final Fantasy game. Ito, the original designer of the Active Time Battle system, whittles it down to its barest elements and unearths an unsurprising secret: this guy is so good at making video games. Dungeon Encounters is endlessly engaging and elegant in its simplicity, and it's enough to demonstrate to me that Ito is better now than he's ever been.

If the Final Fantasy IX remake exists, and if Hiroyuki Ito is involved, I will put my preorder money where my mouth is. If not... well, like I said, Final Fantasy IX holds up really well, so I can always play that again. In fact, I might go play it again anyway.

The post We don’t need a Final Fantasy IX Remake, but I sure want one appeared first on Destructoid.

It just makes sense

You know what's really good? Final Fantasy music. I'm not the kind of person who puts video game music in their walking-around playlists, but I'll frequently pop in a pair of earbuds and simply vibe on the Final Fantasy VII soundtrack. It's great in the context of the games - Final Fantasy as a franchise plays host to some of the most evocative JRPG battle themes of all time - but it's also just fun and pleasant to listen to.

So the philosophy behind Theatrhythm Final Bar Line makes sense. Nobody in the world will tell you that the music of Nobuo Uematsu is bad. Even the "worst" Final Fantasy soundtrack is a vibe. Why not make that the whole game? The idea has worked a handful of times before (the first two Theatrhythm games, the arcade spinoff, Kingdom Hearts: Melody of Memory, the Japan-exclusive Theatrhythm Dragon Quest), so it should work again.

[caption id="attachment_361052" align="alignnone" width="640"] Screenshot by Destructoid[/caption]

Yeah, it works

The good news is that Theatrhythm, at least in the recently-released demo, is as good as it's ever been. Tapping, sliding, and flicking to the beat still feels great. Developer indieszero has proven its competence in the rhythm gaming space time after time, and it seems like Theatrhythm Final Bar Line will continue the trend.

For the most part, this is Theatrhythm as it's always been. You assemble a small party of doll-like Final Fantasy characters and head into a stage where you'll tap to the beat of different Final Fantasy tunes. In the demo, songs are separated into Field Stages - usually town themes, overworld exploration songs, and other chilled-out tracks - and Battle Stages - intense fight themes. The final game will also feature stages with cinematics from various Final Fantasy games, but I haven't had the chance to try those yet.

Variety is the spice of life

Final Bar Line, like its Theatrhythm ancestors, does an excellent job of making Field Stages and Battle Stages feel different. The fundamentals are exactly the same; you tap when a red circle shows up, you hold when a green circle shows up, and you flick whenever you see an arrow. But Field Stages feature sliding notes, which make them feel significantly more free and flowing than the thumping, heavy Battle Stages, where the focus is less on movement and more on keeping track of your fingers. The developers have also done an excellent job of adapting the touch-based controls of the series to a traditional controller. I played the demo on a Nintendo Switch and it only took one track for me to fully adjust to the new control scheme.

[caption id="attachment_361049" align="alignnone" width="640"] Screenshot by Destructoid[/caption]

The game can get tough, too. Every song has at least three difficulty levels: Standard, Expert, and Ultimate. Some songs also feature an even tougher "Supreme" difficulty. These are truly terrible difficulty labels, but the levels themselves are very nice. Supreme songs will genuinely challenge hardcore rhythm gaming enthusiasts, while babies like me will feel fantastic clearing an Expert level track - sounds better than "second-easiest," doesn't it?

Every track can also be played in co-op mode, and my girlfriend and I played around with that a bit. We found the two-player offerings every bit as satisfying as they were in Kingdom Hearts: Melody of Memory's best-in-class co-op mode, and I'm glad to have a new multiplayer rhythm game in my pocket.

Not much RPG here

The one area where Theatrhythm Final Bar Line isn't singing for me just yet is its RPG core. Like the first two Theatrhythm games, Final Bar Line features a rudimentary leveling system. Every character can unlock different abilities, and you can assemble a party of four from a staggering number of Final Fantasy characters. There are also equippable summons, healing items, and a handful of other RPG systems. In theory, there should be a ton of customizability. Unfortunately, none of these abilities feel like they do anything.

[caption id="attachment_361050" align="alignnone" width="640"] Screenshot by Destructoid[/caption]

Healers make it possible to miss a few more notes than usual, and attackers will engage in little battles on the bottom of the screen that are presumably impacted by their stats and abilities, but none of this feels impactful at all. In some ways, I get the sense that Final Bar Line suffers from its release window. I never minded the relatively shoddy rhythm "combat" in earlier titles, but having just seen Hi-Fi Rush nail this format, it does feel a little disappointing. My performance doesn't seem to have any impact on the idle game that's happening underneath the notes, so I can't bring myself to care too much about what happens down there.

It's possible that party composition will feel much more exciting in the full game, but at least in the demo, it feels like a basically superfluous system. It's fun to have Alphinaud and Aerith fight side by side, but I'm not sure what they're actually doing.

A promising overture

Overall, I feel really good about Theatrhythm Final Bar Line. The modular difficulty makes it easy to find a sweet spot, the different tracks feel varied and interesting, and the co-op offerings are wonderful. I hope the RPG bits get more engaging and interesting as the game goes on, and I'm looking forward to seeing what else the title has to offer.

[caption id="attachment_361051" align="alignnone" width="640"] Screenshot by Destructoid[/caption]

This is the kind of game I've been itching for, and I'm glad it's finally here. I never doubted that Square Enix and indieszero could make a fun Final Fantasy rhythm game, and it's nice to be proven right.

The post Theatrhythm Final Bar Line demo impressions: A worthy musical sendup to Final Fantasy appeared first on Destructoid.

Edutainment that's not very edutaining

For about as long as I've been alive, Walt Disney World has been my family's go-to vacation destination. We've reliably visited the four-park resort in Florida every couple of years for around two decades. I have a real fondness for the parks. But I've always been a little unsure of EPCOT.

EPCOT, the "Experimental Prototype City of Tomorrow" (named for an intentional community that Walt Disney thought up shortly before his death), is a weird beast. It's an edutainment park, which already makes it a harder sell than something like the Magic Kingdom. When you're nine years old, the choice between meeting Mickey Mouse and learning about the fuel efficiency of the modern automobile is not a difficult one, even if Test Track is a great ride. More frustratingly, though, it's a bad edutainment park, one where many attractions were reworked for a few years and then basically abandoned in a state that is neither particularly educational nor very entertaining. More recent additions, like the baffling new Guardians of the Galaxy roller coaster, seem to have totally abandoned the idea of a "theme," offering no parity with the surrounding park whatsoever.

[caption id="attachment_360257" align="alignnone" width="640"] Screenshot by Destructoid[/caption]

That wasn't always the case, though. Many theme park fans look back on the EPCOT of the early 80s with a great deal of warmth. It played host to some of the most beloved attractions in Disney's history, and its design was dramatically more cohesive. At least, that's what I've been hearing from older fans for years - I wasn't around to see old-school EPCOT. Then, a few days back, Justin McElroy mentioned Futureport '82 on an episode of the excellent podcast The Besties. And right at the end of January, I found my game of the year.

A blast from the past

Futureport '82 is a digital recreation of EPCOT's Future World as it existed on the park's opening day in 1982, built entirely in Unreal Engine 5. Future World makes up about half of EPCOT, and Futureport '82 recreates that half stunningly. From the monorail station at the entrance of the park all the way to the entrance to World Showcase, EPCOT's other half, just about everything is represented.

I'm honestly astonished by the attention to detail in Futureport '82. Creator Sean Patrick Holland, with the help of 22 credited collaborators, has made far more than I ever expected, especially given that Futureport '82 isn't yet finished. The recreated Future World includes everything, down to the merchandise that would have been present at the park's opening, all proudly arranged in an empty gift shop. There are even advertisements for planned but unrealized attractions - two posters proudly advertise the TRON Arcade, a gaming-themed installation that was advertised at EPCOT's opening but never built.

[caption id="attachment_360259" align="alignnone" width="640"] Screenshot by Destructoid[/caption]

I wasn't alive in 1982, so I can't say for sure whether or not this is a perfect recreation of Future World. You'd have to talk to someone more qualified for that. I can say that Futureport '82 feels comprehensive. Even if the layout isn't exactly 1:1, it's clear that every element of early Future World has been carefully considered by knowledgeable, passionate, and intelligent people. Anyone who goes to the extra effort of modeling attraction signs with their original corporate sponsors clearly cares about the little things.

A museum for weirdos

All around Futureport '82 are little kiosks. These are some of the only pieces of Futureport '82 that weren't present when EPCOT opened, although you won't be surprised to learn that they're based on EPCOT's real, long-defunct WorldKey Information kiosks. The real kiosks were largely used for dining reservations and were found in the Earth Center (a building that you can, of course, visit in Futureport '82), but here, they're scattered across the park and contain fascinating pieces of EPCOT history.

[caption id="attachment_360260" align="alignnone" width="640"] Screenshot by Destructoid[/caption]

These kiosks lend to the sense that Futureport '82 is a kind of niche museum. It's not really a "video game" - there are no goals, no systems to play with, and not all that much to do. It's more of a virtual love letter to a specific place from a specific era.

The passion is palpable, and there's something rewarding about wandering through it and feeling all that enthusiasm radiate off of the screen. It's the kind of thing you download if you're interested in seeing where the Potato Store was in 1982 and learning which restaurant was similar to the Sunshine Terrace. In short, it's for a very specific group of weirdos, and I find myself comfortable in that group.

[caption id="attachment_360258" align="alignnone" width="640"] Screenshot by Destructoid[/caption]

Pardon our pixie dust

Futureport '82 is still a work in deep progress. A disclaimer at the top notes that interiors are only available for a handful of buildings, with more to come in the future. Full attractions are also still in the works - right now, you can stand in the Kitchen Kabaret lobby, but actually hearing robots say "Veggie veggie, fruit fruit" remains a distant dream.

[caption id="attachment_360261" align="alignnone" width="640"] Screenshot by Destructoid[/caption]

It's also a bit rough around the edges from a technical perspective. On anything higher than the lowest graphical settings, it starts to chug, and at one point I climbed up the stairs in a room and fell straight through a floor with no collision detection.

Even in its current, incomplete state, though, Futureport '82 is something truly special. This isn't the first time someone has recreated a theme park in a digital space (Disney itself recently rebuilt the Magic Kingdom in Minecraft), but the care that's gone into this project is absolutely infectious. I truly can't wait for the future of Futureport '82.

The post Futureport ’82 isn’t really a game, but it might be my GOTY anyways appeared first on Destructoid.

A quiet banger

Hi-Fi Rush has a lot going for it. The latest title from The Evil Within developer Tango Gameworks is an action-rhythm game that blends the two genres expertly. It was practically made in a lab for me, as someone who's very enthusiastic about both rhythm games and Tango Gameworks' transition into action game design. I love its plucky hero, Chai, and his companions (I have a special fondness for 808, the robot cat that turns into the flying ball thing from Mobile Suit Gundam). I'm a huge fan of the game's flashy comic book art and its early-00s soundtrack.

But you know what I love more than Hi-Fi Rush's electrifying gameplay? Its humble release. Just hours after the game was announced, it quietly dropped on PC and Xbox consoles via Game Pass. I have long held that certain games would fare better with no hype cycle whatsoever, and Hi-Fi Rush has left me with an addendum to that belief: certain games would fare better with no hype cycle and with a Game Pass release.

[caption id="attachment_360001" align="alignnone" width="640"] Screenshot by Destructoid[/caption]

Well, duh

I know I'm not breaking any new ground by saying "it's good when games are on Game Pass." Obviously, it would be great if every game was released on Game Pass, so nobody would ever have to buy a video game again. But Hi-Fi Rush's surprise release is almost the ideal Game Pass situation.

Hi-Fi Rush would not be served by a traditional marketing campaign. Its action-rhythm gameplay doesn't translate very well into a video - just looking at the game makes it seem like a bubble gum take on Devil May Cry, and while that's not strictly incorrect, it's also a little misleading. The game leans much harder on its rhythm aspects than some would expect from a trailer. I suspect that a months-long marketing push would leave a lot of players anticipating a very different game, and, ultimately, the exciting launch that Hi-Fi Rush is currently experiencing would have looked much less positive.

[caption id="attachment_360007" align="alignnone" width="640"] Screenshot by Destructoid[/caption]

Just give it a try

The nice thing about Game Pass is that there are no stakes. You can flip a game on, decide whether or not it's for you, and flip it off without losing anything but a few minutes (or hours, if you're feeling generous). As someone who adored Tango Gameworks' last game, Ghostwire: Tokyo, I always would have been willing to drop 30 bucks on Hi-Fi Rush. I want Tango Gameworks to take more genre swings, and I want them to keep getting wider. But not everybody wants that! Or, at least, not everybody thinks they want that. Ghostwire: Tokyo left a lot of people cold, and I think that's because the stakes were too high at launch.

[caption id="attachment_356095" align="alignnone" width="640"] Image via Bethesda Softworks[/caption]

Ghostwire: Tokyo was hyped up as the triumphant return of the developers of The Evil Within. That is not what that game is. It's a first-person shooter with snazzy action and a spooky setting. It also launched at 60 dollars after an expensive marketing campaign, and if you bought the new Evil Within game only to find out that you actually bought the new Doctor Strange game, well, too bad.

Now, if you simply downloaded a random new Tango Gameworks game as a part of a paid subscription, then maybe you'd feel a little warmer towards the Doctor Strange game you accidentally got saddled with. Take advertising out of the equation, don't ask for a massive upfront chunk of change, and I suspect a lot more players would feel a greater fondness towards Ghostwire: Tokyo. More importantly, the people who didn't like it wouldn't feel slighted by its existence.

It's happened before

In fact, this exact situation happened with 2022's Scorn. That game looks a lot like a grimy action-horror title, but it's more of a slow, moody puzzle-fest. Scorn's developers warned people that it would be an atmospheric adventure game, but it didn't matter. The game seems like one thing in a trailer, and another thing in your hands. The best way to really understand a game like that is to play it.

[caption id="attachment_359998" align="alignnone" width="640"] Image via Kepler Interactive[/caption]

I know a lot of people who bought into the hype for the game ahead of launch and did not like it. Folks who paid full price got it the worst, but even if they played it on Game Pass, they wanted one thing and got another. On the other hand, the people I know who had never heard of Scorn but stumbled upon it on Game Pass walked away with much more generous feelings. If you don't know what you're getting into, then it's a lot easier to be won over by whatever you get. Hype is fun, but if you buy into it too hard, you can easily end up with a sense of disappointment and a lighter wallet.

My Game Pass subscription is an on-and-off affair, but every time my sub is active, I end up stumbling across a wealth of games I might have otherwise missed out on. I don't like all of those games, but that's fine. The stakes are lowered to the ground, and if I'm not enjoying a game, I can simply turn it off.

[caption id="attachment_359999" align="alignnone" width="640"] Image via Xbox Game Studios[/caption]

I think there are a lot of high-profile games that would benefit from the "simply turn it off" mentality. Without the heightened expectations that come with months of PR buzz and a full price tag, it's easier to appreciate what a game has to offer, and not just what it has to promise. I wish that there were options like this available for a weird, ambitious, excellent game like Sunset Overdrive, which never found much of an audience at launch. I don't think this kind of release is right for every game, but for certain titles, it could be an absolute boon.

I have no idea if this model is actually financially sustainable (I have my doubts about any subscription service after the demise of MoviePass), but it does seem like it provides players with a much healthier way to look at certain games. Also, by the way, you should totally play Hi-Fi Rush. It whips so hard.

The post Hi-Fi Rush represents Game Pass’ secret strength appeared first on Destructoid.

Filling in a cultural gap

I have a confession to make: I missed out on Metal Gear Solid. I was a lame kid who liked cartoony platformers and power-of-friendship RPGs, and Hideo Kojima's epic saga of gruff military boys in cardboard boxes did nothing for my brain. Still, I figured I understood what Metal Gear was based on pop culture osmosis - baffling lore, thoughtful political intrigue, and brief interludes of intense homoeroticism, all in a 3D stealth shooting package.

So imagine my surprise when I went on my very first journey with Solid Snake and didn't see any of that. See, when I start a task, I like to start it from the beginning. So when I committed to getting into Metal Gear, I went straight for entry numero uno: 1987's Metal Gear for the MSX 2.

Humble beginnings

Metal Gear is a game about a guy named Solid Snake, a rookie agent for a military organization known as FOXHOUND. I will admit, I don't know much about Solid Snake in the Metal Gear Solid games, but to the best of my understanding, he's a character in those games. To call him a "character" in Metal Gear would be a little generous. Mostly, he's a two-inch tall computer man who just loves infiltrating. He can't get enough of infiltrating! It's his favorite thing to do.

[caption id="attachment_359570" align="alignnone" width="640"] Screenshot by Destructoid[/caption]

Snake's second favorite thing to do is pick things up and take them somewhere else. He takes after Metroid's Samus Aran in this way; he's always finding an object in one place that makes it easier to navigate another place. That's great, because Snake's current mission is to infiltrate Outer Heaven, a very sinister mercenary stronghold in South Africa that's full of objects that are absolutely vital for navigation. I'm not sure how anyone actually gets any work done in Outer Heaven, given that multiple connecting rooms fill up with toxic gas for no reason in particular and there's only one gas mask.

Most of Metal Gear consists of finding things in one place and taking them to another place. While you're busy doing that, Outer Heaven mercenaries will try and shoot at you, so it's best to hide behind the architecturally nonsensical pillars scattered around the base. If you do get caught, it's probably best to just make a break for the next room over. Most of the time, if the bad guys can't see you, they'll fully forget you exist, which is good since Snake is terrible at shooting (it's possible that I'm terrible at shooting, but I'm going to lay the blame at Snake's feet here).

But is it any good?

I'm being snarky, obviously, but I actually think there's a lot to love in this humble little proto-Metal Gear. It's not what I expected at all, but I ended up having a very good time with it. The stealth is shockingly elegant for a game this old. I figured it would be Clunkfest 1987, but most of the time, if the bad guys caught me, it was fully my fault, and if I caught them, it actually felt pretty good.

[caption id="attachment_359574" align="alignnone" width="640"] Screenshot by Destructoid[/caption]

Metal Gear has what could be described as a prototypical "stealth kill" mechanic: if you manage to get the jump on a bad guy by creeping behind them, you can pretty much stunlock them and punch them to death without alerting any of their buddies. Actually, you can do that by just walking up to their side, too, provided you aren't looking them directly in the eye.

Outer Heaven's boys are not the most attentive.

There are a handful of other ways to get around Outer Heaven — sometimes, agents will fall asleep standing up, and you can walk right past them without issue. My favorite method of conflict aversion, though, is Solid Snake's iconic cardboard box. The box is introduced with the kind of goofy reverence that suggests that the developers knew what they had on their hands. It's all alone in an empty room, it has no item description, and Snake's (spoiler alert) confidant-turned-nemesis Big Boss has absolutely no idea what to make of it. The first time Snake puts it on his head and disappears entirely, it's like magic.

Wit and wisdom

I also found myself really taken by Metal Gear's writing. There's not much of it, but what's there was very endearing to me. My favorite characters, hands down, are the captured FOXHOUND agents who spout off some of the most incredible advice of all time. I know when my government-sanctioned action hero comes to break me out of prison, I'm always ready to tell them what they might be able to do if they had a parachute.

[caption id="attachment_359571" align="alignnone" width="640"] Screenshot by Destructoid[/caption]

Metal Gear also plays host to a lot of authorial instincts that I instantly recognized as a fan of Death Stranding and PT. His ability to bump up against the fourth wall in ways that are simultaneously unnerving and playful is on full display here, as is his willingness to mess around with genre and medium.

The "plot," if it can be described as such, is as thin and unimpressive as most games of the era — I got through all of Metal Gear in about three hours, and two and a half of those were dedicated to finding key cards, so there wasn't a whole lot of time for narrative development. Metal Gear is aware of this fact, though. Its characters are painted in broad, archetypal strokes. Solid Snake is every single action hero. The creator of the eponymous Metal Gear is every beleaguered scientist. The Big Boss at the end is literally named Big Boss. It's all light genre pastiche, and it's got a low-key sense of humor that makes it very endearing.

Plus, there's this girl, who is apparently Hideo Kojima's daughter.

[caption id="attachment_359573" align="alignnone" width="640"] Screenshot by Destructoid[/caption]

In the end, I'm glad I finally got around to playing Metal Gear. It's got plenty of ridiculously dated design decisions, including elevators that take ages to ascend, holes that open in the ground and insta-kill you with absolutely no warning (again, how do people work here?), and a boss fight with one of the worst gimmicks I've ever seen, but it was a good time.

I snagged it for a mere five dollars, and honestly, if it was a brand-new game at the same price, I think I'd still really dig it. I'm almost certainly going to chase it with all the other Metal Gear games, and I might just give Kojima's other MSX-era games a try, too. Maybe I'll finally get to see some of that intense homoeroticism.

The post I played the original Metal Gear for the first time in 2023 appeared first on Destructoid.

Portable power!

The most popular current-generation console is a handheld. Computer companies with limited experience in the console market are jumping in with handhelds of their own. There's no denying it: portable gaming is in the midst of a renaissance. But as companies continue to release handheld consoles, and as consumers continue to buy them, I'm struck by an interesting question: what was the last mainstream handheld game?

I'm not talking about a game that you can play on a handheld. At this point, you can play basically any game ever made on a handheld. I'm talking about a game built for handhelds, one that benefits from a smaller form factor, lower processing power, and increased portability. Handheld consoles are about as big as they've ever been... so where are all the handheld games?

Very important pockets

Think back with me on simpler times. Remember when companies like Nintendo and Sony would have two main consoles on the market at once? A chunky home device and its lean, mean, pocket-friendly little sister? And, crucially, remember when they had different libraries? There was a kind of separation of powers in those days, and it led to some really compelling design decisions.

[caption id="attachment_359259" align="alignnone" width="640"] Image via Sony Interactive Entertainment[/caption]

The limited power of the handheld has also always been of some import. Patapon, Loco Roco, and Echoshift are all wildly beloved PSP and Vita franchises, and it's hard to imagine any of them connecting on the PS3. While home consoles were in the midst of a graphical arms race, pushing more and more cinematic stories, Sony was quietly publishing some deeply innovative and interesting titles on their dedicated handhelds. At home, you get Halo and The Last of Us. On the go, you get a rhythm tactics side-scroller.

Most of these games are designed based on a simple philosophy: a great handheld game is built on the idea that it will be played in your hand. It's a game in which nothing is lost on the small screen, and, indeed, one in which something is gained. Patapon plays great on my PlayStation 5, but its miniature heroes, are built for a smaller world. The characters bear simple designs that are readable on a smaller screen. They address the player directly, assuming a level of intimacy that the PSP facilitates nicely. Most importantly, the tight, brief levels are the kind of thing that belong in a back pocket, not on a TV stand.

A delicious bite

When I talk about games that are truly built for handheld play, it's hard to avoid Pokémon: I have long believed that the original Pokémon games would have faded into the realm of the cult classic on home consoles. These games are full of smart design calls that make them sing on the go. Of course, Pokémon has some pretty foundationally pocket-sized ideas. A game about going on an adventure and finding new things outside was undoubtedly able to more fully resonate with young children who could actually take it with them on their own mini-journeys.

Portability in Pokémon is baked into its ethos, but it also plays a meaningful role in its design. Battles are tactical, but they're usually brief affairs. Every moment offers up the chance to see a cool new character, or to win a really tough fight. Satisfaction and engagement awaits around every corner... which also means every play session, no matter how bite-sized, is satisfying and engaging.

[caption id="attachment_359268" align="alignnone" width="640"] Image via Square Enix[/caption]

"Brief but satisfying" is the aim in a good handheld game. That's also why a lot of homebound games earned a revival in the back seat of Mom's car. Series like Final Fantasy and Persona earned second lives through handheld ports - where sprawling RPGs with intense stories were once considered TV-oriented affairs, ports like Final Fantasy Tactics: War of the Lions and Persona 4 Golden posited that a sixty hour game with three minute fights might actually be more digestible on the go. These games were already satisfying in bursts, so they made for a natural fit on the PSP and PS Vita. Likewise, Tetris' earliest releases were on Soviet home computers, but its most iconic incarnation was on the original Game Boy. As it turns out, people like score-chasing dopamine hits in their pockets.

A necessary lifeline

Handheld design philosophy also left the door open to iterate on home concepts. When home gaming systems entered the 3D era, a lot of franchises made the jump with them. Handheld consoles needed games, too, but sprawling adventures didn't always play as well on the go. That meant older design philosophy met with handheld design philosophy to keep certain corners of the gaming world alive.

I often think of Metroid Fusion. This was a 2D Metroid game released on the Game Boy Advance exactly one day before Metroid Prime, which would become the "main" Metroid series for the following twenty years. My personal opinions on Fusion aside, it is a great portable title. It's fairly linear by necessity, because it is designed to be played in shorter bursts by more casual players. More notably, though, it's an actual 2D Metroid game - I can't help but feel that if the GBA wasn't around, 2D Metroid might have disappeared entirely. As a matter of fact, when a new 2D Metroid game finally arrived on the Nintendo Switch in 2021, it was a retooled version of a DS game.

[caption id="attachment_359263" align="alignnone" width="640"] Image via Nintendo[/caption]

Super Mario Bros. and The Legend of Zelda followed similar trajectories: as the home console games got more expansive, the portable games tightened the bolts on classic concepts, offering up some of the best games in their respective franchises.

What now?

In 2023, the distinction between "handheld" and "home console" is becoming increasingly muddy. The Nintendo Switch, of course, exists to destroy that distinction entirely, serving as both Nintendo's current generation handheld and its home console. Games made for the Switch need to be both home console titles and handheld titles (and the handheld bit usually cedes itself to the big-screen bit). The Steam Deck, similarly, is a handheld that plays PC games. At least for now, basically nothing is built for the Steam Deck. It also bears mentioning that, while they do fit in your hand, neither of these consoles are especially portable, so the "on-the-go" philosophy that defines games like Pokémon isn't something developers need to consider.

I think the impact of this has been almost instantaneously obvious. It seems unlikely that we'll ever get, say, a new 2D Zelda game on the Switch. When an old 2D Zelda game was brought over, it was prettied up and converted to 3D to make it look and feel less like a handheld game. Sony has seemingly given up on its handheld platforms entirely. The company offers PS4 and PS5 remote play on mobile devices, as well as a meager offering of remastered PSP titles for its home consoles, but looking at a list of Sony-published games from the last several years, it's apparent that the portable design philosophy has vanished.

[caption id="attachment_359260" align="alignnone" width="640"] Image via Nintendo[/caption]

There have been proper handheld games developed and released more recently - Panic's Playdate, for example, is a comically underpowered monochrome handheld with a dedicated and compelling library. It's become something of a safe haven for independent developers looking for a quirky platform where smaller games can flourish. Developers want to make new games like Patapon, and the Playdate offers them that space. While there are plenty of Playdate games that would be comfortable enough on home consoles, the most beloved titles on the platform tend to be games like Bennett Foddy's Zipper, a tactical RPG full of brief, satisfying encounters.

In terms of mainstream consoles, though? We're pretty much out of luck. Every game made for Nintendo's flagship handheld must necessarily be made for its flagship home system, and nobody else is even trying to offer a smaller counterpart to their massive offerings. There's a portable hole in the market, and I truly hope someone comes along to fill it.

The post Where have the handheld games gone? appeared first on Destructoid.

I'm bad, and that's good

Heroes get a lot of love. The main character of a game is, by their very nature, the star of the show. But a great villain is often even more compelling than a great hero - everyone wants to save the world, but it takes a special soul to want to destroy it.

It's almost impossible to whittle a list of iconic video game villains down to just ten. It would be easy to simply point to the villains from games that sold really well, but that's not really what it means to be iconic. So I tried my hardest to compile a list of ten video game villains who are real icons; the ones who stand tall in the world of gaming, whose silhouettes are enough to send shivers down your spine.

[caption id="attachment_358899" align="alignnone" width="640"] Image via Nintendo[/caption]

10. Ridley - Metroid

The Metroid games have all sorts of great villains, but if you want to talk about iconography, Ridley's your guy. This nasty space dragon has done battle with Samus Aran on nearly every single one of her many adventures. To be fair, Samus has a pretty good reason to want Ridley dead: he killed her parents way back when.

Secretly, though, I think Samus got over that a while ago. She just wants to flex about beating the same alien pterodactyl like a dozen times.

[caption id="attachment_356767" align="alignnone" width="640"] Screenshot via Nintendo[/caption]

9. Sephiroth - Final Fantasy VII

If you asked ten people who played Final Fantasy VII what Sephiroth's motive was, you'd probably only get three answers, and you'd be pretty lucky if one of them was correct. Honestly, it's hard to remember much about Sephiroth himself. He wears that really cool coat, he's got a huge sword, and he's a weirdly chill co-worker in Crisis Core, but that's about it. He's not even really the main villain of Final Fantasy VII Remake. So how does a character like that wind up on a "most iconic" list? Why does Sephiroth keep cropping up in Final Fantasy VII spinoffs and crossover events?

To answer that question, I'd like to give you a few instructions. First, I want you to open up a new tab on your computer. Now head on over to YouTube, and type in "One-Winged Angel Distant Worlds." Go ahead and click on any of the first three results. See? Iconic.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QVZVo2J53TM

8. Albert Wesker - Resident Evil

Looking at Albert Wesker now, it's kind of hard to believe that Resident Evil briefly tried to trick us into thinking he was a nice guy. See those sunglasses? Those are very evil sunglasses.

Wesker is such a classic villain. He meddles in things beyond his understanding, he gets arrogant about playing God, he throws his buddies under the bus. Even his death is incredible - how many guys can make it through multiple self-engineered zombie apocalypses just to get launched into a volcano by a missile explosion? Just one. And his name is Albert Wesker.

[caption id="attachment_358901" align="alignnone" width="640"] Image via Capcom[/caption]

7. Dr. Wily - Mega Man

Speaking of guys who love to play God, who could forget Dr. Wily? This old weirdo has one of my favorite backstories in all of video games. He had a friend in college, his friend was smarter than him, so he got mad and moved to the ocean to build world-dominating robots. Who wouldn't?

Mega Man games are great on their own, but they're even better for their wrinkly antagonist and his stupid petty robo-army. Now, only one question remains: where is Dr. Wily?

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OMTizJemHO8

6. Dracula - Castlevania

Maybe it's cheating to include Dracula on this list. I mean, he's Dracula. Of course he's iconic. But Castlevania's version of Dracula is a very specific take on the character, and one who's surely earned his place in the rankings. He's a frightening and sinister foe, and as if his long-standing anti-Belmont policy wasn't bad enough, he's also an awful father.

But, I mean, you've gotta give him credit for that dope line about miserable little piles of secrets. What a cool guy.

[caption id="attachment_358903" align="alignnone" width="640"] Image via Valve[/caption]

5. GLaDOS - Portal

I have a feeling that anyone who's ever heard a single line from GLaDOS would include her on this list. You don't need to have finished Portal, or even played very much of it, to appreciate GLaDOS.

Ellen McLain's performance as GLaDOS in the original Portal is one of the best pieces of video game voice-acting ever, and she delivers similarly impressive results in every other Portal project and crossover. She's so deliciously cruel to Chell, both as a demanding taskmaster and as a very rude friend, and the amazingly resentful songs that play over the credits of both Portal games only serve to cement her as one of gaming's greatest bad guys.

[caption id="attachment_358905" align="alignnone" width="640"] Screenshot via Konami YouTube[/caption]

4. Pyramid Head - Silent Hill

..Sorry, Masahiro Ito.

[caption id="attachment_358906" align="alignnone" width="640"] Screenshot via The Pokémon Company YouTube[/caption]

3. Team Rocket - Pokémon

Team Rocket rules. Why does this organization of super-criminals have such a bone to pick with one random kid? Why is their plan for world domination centered entirely around children's sporting events? What, exactly, are they planning on doing once they've stolen all the most expensive pets in the world? How will that materially help them?

I don't know. But I'm glad they're out there trying, because I think they're very funny. They're also undeniably iconic. While they're only the main villains in two generations, they've been cropping up in remakes for years, and they even made a full reappearance as a secondary villain team in Ultra Sun and Ultra Moon.

[caption id="attachment_358907" align="alignnone" width="640"] Image via SEGA[/caption]

2. Dr. Eggman - Sonic the Hedgehog

You can call this guy "Dr. Robotnik" if you want, but he'll always be Dr. Eggman to me. He's a man who kinda looks like an egg. It just makes sense.

Ever since Dr. Eggman first started putting animals inside of robot suits, he's been one of the most ridiculous villains in the medium. That's fitting, given that his nemesis is a hedgehog who can move really quickly. There have been other Sonic villains, but I'd bet good money that you can't name three of them. Dr. Eggman, on the other hand, is a true icon. He's been given deeper characterization since his first appearance, but players have been enamored by this rotund rabbit trapper from minute one.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=03bAayBtcb0

1. Bowser - Super Mario Bros.

Was this spot ever going to belong to anyone else? Bowser, the big lizard who hates plumbers, is one of the greatest villains ever. He's also probably the only character on this list my grandpa would recognize, which is a huge argument in favor of his iconography.

Sure, Bowser has oscillated back and forth between "kidnapper" and "reluctant buddy," but at the end of the day, this guy can only be called a villain, and a very good one at that. Any dinosaur who can be a doting dad, a piece of paper, a tyrant king, a go-karting superstar, and Dennis Hopper is okay in my book.

The post 10 most iconic video game villains of all time, ranked appeared first on Destructoid.

The game is the story

When people talk about the ideal "video game story," they're usually talking about something like Final Fantasy VI or Metal Gear Solid. A "good story" in a video game is usually a coherent narrative with characters and events, ideally one that's augmented or enhanced by gameplay. On occasion, folks will point to something like Dwarf Fortress, a game that uses the foundations of interactivity to generate elaborate narratives.

[caption id="attachment_358665" align="alignnone" width="640"] Image via Kitfox Games[/caption]

I think there's another, more interesting type of video game narrative, though. It's a kind that only exists in games and one that exists in every game. It's not always written deliberately, and it often comes into view only after the game has been played.

The automatic story

Human beings are really good at projecting stories onto blank canvases. When we recount times in our lives, we're very bad at viewing them discreetly. They're always a sequence of events that feed into one another, a little story whose only author is experience. Video games, very often, are an almost-blank canvas. Where life is a story we write, defined by our experiences, games are stories we come to, and stories we supplement with those experiences. They are experiences built by other humans, who have laid the groundwork for a new story.

I think that, by virtue of being an active experience, every game accidentally tells a story. I like to think of it as an "automatic story." It's not something anyone has written, and it's not something anyone is presenting, but it's something that springs up simply because of the way the human brain works. It's the detail we automatically fill in when we see broad brush strokes. It looks different for everyone, because everyone is both the author and the protagonist. I've talked through this theory with friends before, and they'll often scoff. Usually, the conversation circles around to Tetris. After all, everyone has played Tetris, but nobody can tell you the plot of Tetris. I think that's because the "plot" of a game like Tetris (or Pong, or Breakout, or whatever other arcade title you prefer) is entirely unique to the medium of games.

[caption id="attachment_358343" align="alignnone" width="640"] Image via The Tetris Company[/caption]

Games do something very interesting without even trying: they invite you to co-author a story. Back in 1984, Alexey Pajitnov wrote the barest skeleton of a narrative without thinking. He put a bunch of bricks on a screen, he offered up the opportunity to move those bricks, and, without realizing, he wrote the first line every Tetris story. Every single Tetris player for the last thirty-odd years has come away from the game finishing Pajitnov's tale. The moving bricks, consciously or otherwise, become characters, or structures, or cargo. The ratcheting tension and increased speed connect with everyone for one reason or another. For Pajitnov, things get faster to keep the game from getting boring, but for the player, it's impossible to avoid imagining a reason, some kind of narrative rationale. We are humans, connecting with the work of other humans, and without realizing, we have turned that experience into a story. One that's very difficult to tell, and one that can only really be felt.

Okay, but what about "real" stories?

Obviously, not all video games exist in such an abstract state. Sure, it's hard to describe the plot of Tetris, but you can explain exactly what happens in The Secret of Monkey Island. That game is obsessively authored, its characters are named and defined. How do games like that fit into my theory of the automatic story?

Many of the best straightforward "narrative" games will allow for some level of emergent storytelling. They'll give a player the tools to tell their own additional story, one that might support the main plot, or one that might totally derail and contradict it - sure, Link is on a quest to save Hyrule, but I'm on a quest to see how many different ways there are to drop a rock on Link's head. These aren't "automatic stories," necessarily; they fill the same space, they're similarly co-authored experiences, but they're baked into the game, not just your brain.

[caption id="attachment_358664" align="alignnone" width="640"] the  Image via Nintendo[/caption]

Even in narrative games that don't allow for much experimentation, though, I find that two stories are always present. There's the story being told by the game, and there's the story being told by the player. I think the poster child for this theory is The Last of Us - just about everyone can agree that The Last of Us has a plot. In fact, the game has been accused of being too plotty, to the point that a relatively faithful HBO Max series can act as a handy replacement. But when you play The Last of Us, you cannot disappear into the role of Joel Miller entirely. Video games call on us, as players, to inhabit a character, but we cannot become that character.

In The Last of Us, Joel does some pretty reprehensible stuff. He hits a lot of people in the head with bricks, and the player, simply by virtue of playing, becomes complicit in that brick-hitting. The Last of Us is two stories here: there's the story of a man who hits people in the head with bricks, and there's the story of a player, who chooses to encourage those actions - whether they agree with Joel or not, the only way to roll credits is to keep going.

To continue playing (and, more specifically, to continue playing well) is a narrative choice that the player makes, consciously or unconsciously, as the co-author of the automatic story. Simply by having the experience, by consenting to it, and by engaging with it, the player is saying something, encouraging a new story to blossom. That's not the same story as the one the game is telling; if you put the game down, both stories will stop at the same time, but they'll both mean something different. These two stories - the traditional and the automatic - complement each other. One is written, and one occurs spontaneously. Simply because a game has been crafted by a person, and it has been experienced by another person, it becomes its own story. It happens in the back of our head, with our assistance, knowingly or otherwise. It can't be written; it can only be experienced.

Because, ultimately, experience is a talented author.

The post Game design is narrative design: Exploring video games’ ‘automatic stories’ appeared first on Destructoid.

A baby game, for babies

One Piece Odyssey is a very easy game. There's a good reason for that - despite its frequently thoughtful writing and near-constant horniness, One Piece is ultimately a series aimed at children. It makes sense that a One Piece video game would try its best to remain accessible to its younger audience.

It also makes sense for older fans to hear "comically easy turn-based game" and immediately reach for the auto-battle button. Luckily, One Piece Odyssey has a great auto-battle system. As long as you're not actively avoiding combat, the computer will probably be able to get you through most fights (bosses included) without issue.

[caption id="attachment_358475" align="alignnone" width="640"] Screenshot by Destructoid[/caption]

But I'm here to ask you to reconsider. Yes, auto-battle will get you through most of Odyssey's skirmishes, but if you have any love for turn-based RPGs, you owe it to yourself to check out this combat system.

Uncommon (and unnecessary) depth

I am saying this with full sincerity: One Piece Odyssey has the best turn-based combat since Shin Megami Tensei V. At first blush, it's got a pretty basic rock-paper-scissors type-matching system. Power fighters are strong against Speed opponents, Speed fighters are strong against Technique opponents, and Technique fighters are strong against Power opponents. There are also elemental attacks with their own rudimentary type chart, and a clever (if played-out) system where normal attacks build resources to execute special attacks. But Odyssey's great strength lies in its positioning mechanics.

[caption id="attachment_358474" align="alignnone" width="640"] Screenshot by Destructoid[/caption]

One Piece Odyssey features a fairly simple positioning system. There are a few different areas, and each party member and enemy is assigned to one of them. If there are no enemies in an area, then party members in that area can move to any other area without issue. If there are enemies in an area, then party members can only switch places with other party members who haven't acted yet. That means once you've used one character, they can't move until the turn ends.

This leaves the door open for all sorts of interesting challenges. Say there are two areas full of Power enemies - for a good chunk of the game, you'll only have two Technique fighters, Zoro and Nico Robin. Zoro is stronger, so it's easy to wipe out all the enemies in one area, but Nico Robin's area of attack moves are pretty awful. You could send Luffy, a Power fighter, to her area to help out, but you might be leaving another area undefended, and another party member open to attack.

Brain teasing

Usually, the solution to these problems is pretty obvious. Luffy, for instance, can probably leave Robin to fend for herself - if she can't pull things off this turn, the generally low health bars on those enemies will be whittled down on the next turn, and most enemies deal pretty negligible damage. It's fun to try and min-max these turns, but it's never really rewarded. After all, the game really is a cake walk. If you wanted to ignore most of its systems and just press the "Attack" button, you would probably win 70% of the fights, and if you're thinking about type-matching at all, you'll almost never face a real roadblock.

[caption id="attachment_358476" align="alignnone" width="640"] Screenshot by Destructoid[/caption]

Sometimes, though, Odyssey will throw a special challenge your way. It's usually not too difficult on its own; "Beat [x] enemy with Chopper," "Clear the area before Usopp is knocked out," something to that effect. But it turns the game on its head, particularly if you've been playing normally for a little while.

Here's an example - during one minor boss fight, I was asked to beat a boss with Luffy. This threw a wrench into my plans. Luffy is a Power fighter, and the boss was a Technique fighter, so I had the type disadvantage. That meant it was really tough to put a dent in its health bar with Luffy alone, so I whittled it down with a couple other party members while Sanji single-handedly defended another area. Eventually, I had it in a very frustrating spot. One attack from Luffy probably wouldn't have killed it, but an attack from anyone else absolutely would have. This is when I remembered Trick Balls, the craftable consumables that serve almost no purpose in regular play. Using Trick Balls on the enemy lowered its defense, allowing me to deal the finishing blow as Luffy.

This is an example of Odyssey encouraging me to play with its systems, to find the synergies that I would otherwise ignore. It's a common game design tactic, but a playful and effective one. More importantly, it would have had absolutely no impact if I had just been auto-battling up to that point.

The case for auto-battle

Let me clarify something: those challenges I was talking about are optional. If I wanted to, I could have left Luffy out of that fight entirely. There's no punishment for failing those mini-tasks, and the rewards are pretty meaningless after the first couple of hours. I enjoy playing with these systems because I already like Odyssey's combat. And I am not everybody.

[caption id="attachment_358473" align="alignnone" width="640"] Screenshot by Destructoid[/caption]

There are those for whom all of this will sound very tedious. If you can just muscle through without paying attention to all the interlocking systems, without thinking about character positions or type advantages, why would you expend the extra brainpower just to beat an ostensibly pointless challenge? I understand this philosophy entirely, and I'm glad that auto-battle is there for people who feel this way. One Piece Odyssey has a lot of great stuff to offer for both long-time One Piece fans and total newcomers, and it would be a huge bummer if people were locked out of that stuff by a combat system that they find boring.

But if you think you're the kind of person who will bounce off of Odyssey's combat, I implore you to at least give it a try. There's more to it than you might have guessed, and while it doesn't demand a lot of attention, it does benefit from it.

The post You might want to avoid One Piece Odyssey’s auto-battle appeared first on Destructoid.

The money makers

Video games are a pretty darn profitable industry. As it turns out, a lot of people are willing to pay a lot of money to press little buttons. But only a select few button-pressing facilitators can claim to have made the most money. And only an even more select few can claim to actually be good.

High sales don't always translate into high quality. That's not a secret — there's a reason the fine folks at the British Film Institute don't factor box office take into the Sight & Sound poll (I like Avengers: Endgame, but it's not standing side-by-side with 2001: A Space Odyssey). Still, the Top 10 best-selling games in history have turned a lot of copies, and there's got to be some reason they connect with so many players.

So let's look at that Top 10 list and see which of these games are worth playing, and which are collecting dust on many millions of shelves. Before we get started, I'd like to clarify — there are a lot of different metrics by which one can measure the "best-selling games of all time," but for the purposes of this ranking, I'll be borrowing IGN's rigorously maintained top 10 list and backlinking to original sources.

[caption id="attachment_358334" align="alignnone" width="640"] Image via Blizzard Entertainment[/caption]

10. Overwatch

Per Bloomberg, Blizzard Entertainment's hero shooter Overwatch sold somewhere around 50 million units during its time on the market. By IGN's estimation, that makes it the seventh highest-selling game of all time. It's also tough to recommend, given that you can't actually play it right now.

Overwatch might be a little higher on this list if it was still playable. Unfortunately, it's been replaced by a free-to-play sequel, Overwatch 2. While the second game isn't dramatically different from the first, most of the changes made to the formula have made the game less entertaining. Pay-to-win battle pass progression, heroes locked behind heavy grinding, a team comp overhaul that feels more like a downgrade, making Overwatch 2, in its current state, less than pleasant.

[caption id="attachment_358335" align="alignnone" width="640"] Image via KRAFTON, Inc.[/caption]

9. PlayerUnknown's Battlegrounds

According to The Verge, PUBG sold about 75 million units before going free-to-play, making it the fifth best-selling game ever. There's a good reason for that: when it came out, PUBG was a bit of a revelation. There had been battle royale mods and modes for various other games before, but a game designed from the ground up with 100-person death matches in mind was an uncommon sight. And PUBG was a solid first foray into a budding genre.

In 2023, you can't toss a twig without hitting a battle royale. They aren't all as good as PUBG, but, well, free-to-play PUBG isn't quite as good as 2017 PUBG either. If you really want to play a battle royale game, you're pretty spoiled for choice, and while PUBG isn't the worst option, it is a bit stale.

[caption id="attachment_358336" align="alignnone" width="640"] Image via Rockstar Games[/caption]

8. Grand Theft Auto V

Publisher Take-Two Interactive says Grand Theft Auto V has sold more than 170 million copies as of September 2022. That's a pretty hefty figure, one that makes it the third third-highest seller in the medium. To be completely fair, though, it's not like GTA fans are spoiled for choice. There hasn't been a fully new GTA game in nearly a decade, and Rockstar just keeps porting GTA V.

The game is solid! It's a Grand Theft Auto game. It's a pretty incremental series, and the incremental improvements made in V are good. The writing is decent (if a little cynical for my taste), the open world is fairly compelling, and the primal joy of ramming cars into civilians has remained potent for many years. But, well... it's not really special at this point. Once again, we've seen an awful lot of great open-world games in the last nine years, and GTA V is getting a little long in the tooth.

Let's hope the next game is worth the long, long wait.

[caption id="attachment_358337" align="alignnone" width="640"] Image via Nintendo[/caption]

7. Pokémon Red/Green(/Yellow/Blue)

The Computer Entertainment Supplier's Association (CESA), a Japanese publication that tracks the games industry, claims that the four original releases of the first Pokémon generation have sold somewhere around 45 million units, and Nintendo says we can add 1.5 million units to that figure for the 3DS re-releases. That makes the original Pokémon the ninth highest-selling game in history (even if it had to be four games to earn that spot).

I think most video game fans have at least a small soft spot for Pokémon, and the first generation is undeniably lovable. There are better JRPGs out there — hell, there are better Pokémon games out there — but you can't discount the raw charm of the classics.

[caption id="attachment_358338" align="alignnone" width="640"] Image via Nintendo[/caption]

6. Super Mario Bros.

Turning once more to CESA's 2021 White Papers, Super Mario Bros. has reportedly sold around 48 million units across various platforms. That makes it the eighth best-selling game of all time. It's an undeniable platforming classic, genre-defining title that somehow still feels fresh.

When a game has been so foundational to a genre, going back to it can feel like visiting a museum — it's interesting, sure, but there's other, more fun stuff you could do. That's not the case with Super Mario Bros. The game may have laid the groundwork for 2D platformers to come, but it also mastered its own mechanics, with level layouts that are still fun and clever nearly 40 years later.

[caption id="attachment_358339" align="alignnone" width="640"] Image via Nintendo[/caption]

5. Wii Sports

Wii Sports was bundled with the Nintendo Wii at launch in all territories except Japan, which certainly helps its incredible Nintendo-reported 82.9 million unit sales. That figure makes it the fourth highest-selling game of all time. Honestly, though, I have a feeling that even without the pack-in numbers, Wii Sports could've made this list.

There's simply no better proof-of-concept for the Wii than Wii Sports. Every included sport demonstrates a different use for the Wiimote, and while no other game really found the same level of versatility in the device, Wii Sports was a shining reminder of what motion controls could be. It was the perfect pack-in game, yes, but it was also an excellent game in its own right.

[caption id="attachment_358340" align="alignnone" width="640"] Image via Microsoft[/caption]

4. Minecraft

The first time I played Minecraft, I probably wouldn't have guessed that it was fated to become the second highest-selling game of all time. And yet, according to Microsoft, this unassuming survival sandbox turned proto-Metaverse has sold a staggering 238 million units.

In some ways, calling Minecraft one video game is a little unfair. In addition to having nearly two dozen editions across different platforms, it's also more of a host for games than anything else. The single-player survival mode is still a lot of fun, and creative mode is a good way to bang out some architectural concepts, but multiplayer servers and mods are where the real party is at.

There are so many different things that can be done with the foundations of Minecraft, and that adaptability is the game's greatest strength.

[caption id="attachment_358341" align="alignnone" width="640"] Image via Nintendo[/caption]

3. Mario Kart 8

Nintendo's financial reports put Mario Kart 8, across its two editions, at about 57 million units sold, making it the sixth highest-selling game of all time. It seems pretty staggering that a Wii U game, of all things, could climb so high in the rankings, but I guess that's the power of the Nintendo Switch port.

Mario Kart rules. It's a simple fact of life that everyone on earth likes playing Mario Kart, and Mario Kart 8 Deluxe is probably the best entry in the franchise, period. That's really all there is to say.

[caption id="attachment_358342" align="alignnone" width="640"] Image via Rockstar Games[/caption]

2. Red Dead Redemption 2

According to Take-Two Interactive's August 2022 financial report, Red Dead Redemption 2 has sold over 45 million units (not counting individual copies of Red Dead Online). That makes it the 10th highest-selling game of all time, but it's number two in the quality rankings.

Red Dead Redemption 2 can be slow, monotonous, and long, even by AAA game standards. But that meditative quiet is in service of one of the best narratives in high-budget gaming history. Red Dead Redemption 2 is ponderous and quiet, which has left it saddled with the descriptor of "boring" by folks who prefer their action a little hotter and heavier. Regardless, it's an uncommonly thoughtful game in a field often dominated by bright lights and flashing colors.

[caption id="attachment_358343" align="alignnone" width="640"] Image via The Tetris Company[/caption]

1. Tetris

Sometimes bright lights and flashing colors are good. Quickly, throw a stick somewhere in your room. Good money says you just hit a copy of Tetris. According to The Tetris Company, somewhere in the area of 520 million copies of Tetris have been sold, making it the highest-selling video game in history. It might also be the single best video game in history.

Tetris is one of those concepts that just works. Trying to fit things together in a tight space is satisfying on a primal level, and Tetris is a masterful piece of design work. It's almost silly to praise Tetris. Because everyone already knows it's great. Because everyone has already bought it.

The post The top 10 best-selling video game titles of all time, ranked by quality appeared first on Destructoid.

Buckle up, we're talking about anime

When I hear that a new game is coming based on a popular shonen anime or manga, I tend to assume that we're getting another fighting game that I'll forget about within a week. I can only assume that every Naruto fan is a pro-level arena fighting game player at this point, given the number of Ninja Storm games they've been faced with. One Piece: Burning Blood, Dragon Ball FighterZ, My Hero One's Justice, the ill-fated Jump Force — it seems to me that when you make a game based on a hit anime, the obvious move is to go for a fighting game.

Some of them are good, some of them are not, but boy... are there a lot of them.

[caption id="attachment_357691" align="alignnone" width="640"] Image via Bandai Namco[/caption]

It makes sense; these are usually franchises with a roster of fighters boasting a variety of recognizable signature moves, and fans are always clamoring for pointless power comparisons between any two given characters. If you really want an answer to the age-old debate of "SSJ3 Goku vs. Bardock," all you need to do is look at a FighterZ tier list. But you know what genre can do all of that just a little bit better? Role-playing games.

Put your nose to the grindstone

The RPG, in its most primitive form, is a genre about getting buff. It's about starting off as a capable fighter and slowly evolving into a formidable warrior. Dungeons & Dragons, Final Fantasy, Dragon Quest — all of these games fall under the same genre grouping primarily because they let the player grow stronger over time.

A couple months back, I went on a pretty severe Dragon Ball bender. I read all 500-odd chapters of the original manga in the space of about a week before I turned my attention to the wide world of Dragon Ball video games, starting with 2019's action RPG Dragon Ball Z Kakarot. This is where I made a discovery that seems all too obvious in retrospect: at least since Raditz crashed in Goku's backyard, Dragon Ball has been the story of a guy playing an RPG.

[caption id="attachment_357694" align="alignnone" width="640"] Image via Bandai Namco[/caption]

Kakarot isn't the first game to invite this comparison, and there have been Dragon Ball RPGs in the past, but it stands true. Goku grinds his way from "unusually strong kid" to "god-battling superhero". What are Dragon Ball Z's frequent training montages if not level-up fanfare? This is why Kakarot, a 7/10 by most measures (see Chris Carter's review), is a near-perfect Dragon Ball adaptation.

The life of the party

Recently, after running out of halfway-decent Dragon Ball stuff to submerge myself in, I've begun tackling a more daunting task: reading One Piece for the first time. It's a much larger project than reading Dragon Ball, but I'm about 600 chapters in, and when I heard the elevator pitch for the upcoming One Piece Odyssey, I was elated. The game is a party-based RPG, and I truly can't think of a better way to adapt One Piece.

Dragon Ball Z is somewhat unique in that its fights are usually one-on-one, and its heroes are basically all brute-force punchy-boys (aside from Bulma, who really should be playable in more games). One Piece is the opposite. Certain characters may break off for the occasional side quest, but the Straw Hat Pirates are an RPG party if I've ever seen one. They've got a healer, a bard, a thief, a handful of specialized fighters, a rubber person — you know, the classics.

[caption id="attachment_357697" align="alignnone" width="640"] Image via Bandai Namco[/caption]

After I got over the initial excitement I felt at the idea of a One Piece RPG (not the first one and likely not the last), I realized that a lot of shonen series feature RPG parties. Naruto might be grinding his way to Hokage-dom, but he's doing it with a lot of buddies at his side. Those lads from Demon Slayer are always fighting in little crews. The superheroes in My Hero Academia get Avengers moments every other chapter. Fairy Tail recently drew this comparison for me with its own party-based RPG, although I can't speak to the quality of that one since I haven't watched an episode of Fairy Tail in around a decade.

But what else?

The point is, all of these massive rosters, that already make fighting games such a good template for shonen adaptations, would also make for pretty interesting RPG parties. Most of those characters are steadily upgrading their powers all the time anyways. Some of these properties already have built-in levels, like One Piece's bounties. Maybe it's easier to drop anime characters into fighting games. I've never done it. But I have played those games, and I can proudly say that I'd like most of them a lot more if they were RPGs.

So in recent years, we've gotten RPG adaptations of Dragon Ball Z and Fairy Tail, as well as some Sword Art Online games that I don't feel extremely qualified to comment on. With a release scheduled for tomorrow, we'll finally get to check out One Piece Odyssey for ourselves. But what other series deserve the RPG treatment? Should Denji, Power, and Aki be the new Cloud, Barret, and Tifa? You tell me.

And maybe we can chill out with all those fighting games, if you don't mind.

Related: One Piece Odyssey suffers from a lack of difficulty that leaves the gameplay stretched thin on Gamepur

The post Anime & RPGs: The perfect power couple appeared first on Destructoid.

Why do you build me up?

The satisfaction that comes from doing well in a deckbuilding game is like nothing else. Whether you're playing a physical game like the excellent (if dryly titled) DC Deck-Building Game or a video game like the infinite time-suck that is Slay the Spire, it just feels good to build and unleash your own slate of moves. But recently, I've found myself bored by straight up-and-down deckbuilders. A lot of them feel very similar, and while there are plenty of good games playing with the same ideas, I've started actively seeking out deckbuilders with slightly bigger ideas.

And if it's big ideas you want, Backpack Hero is your new best friend. This early-access roguelike is one of the most inventive deckbuilders I've ever played.

What are ya buyin', stranger?

Backpack Hero wears its Resident Evil 4 DNA proudly on its sleeve. The game is entirely built around fitting weapons and consumables into a limited space, and the eponymous backpack bears a suspicious resemblance to RE4's legendary attache case. But Backpack Hero's survival horror cousin treats inventory management as a neat diversion from a larger game. In Backpack Hero, it is the game.

[caption id="attachment_357593" align="alignnone" width="640"] Screenshot by Destructoid[/caption]

Every item in Backpack Hero takes up a certain number of squares in your backpack. A certain shield will eat up a 2x2 square, while another will only occupy a 2x1 rectangle, so choosing which one to bring along is of maximum importance. But it's not just about what you take with you - it's also about where it goes. Most of the items in the game will be buffed in some way if they're placed in specific slots relative to other items. A helmet, for example, will only function if it's at the top of your bag, and a breastplate will buff adjacent pieces of armor. You might randomly happen across a really sick sword, but to take it, you'll need to sacrifice a defensive build that you've carefully fostered.

Tough choices like that are central to Backpack Hero. Getting married to any one build early in the game can spell defeat, and you have to be willing to let go of something that's working now if you want to plan for the future. Actual combat is pretty bland and repetitive, but that's not the draw. Backpack Hero is a game about inventory management, and it may feature the best inventory management system ever. Where new cards are simply added to the deck in more traditional deckbuilders, Backpack Hero makes every pickup feel like a little puzzle.

Incredible depth

Most of what I've described here is true of the game's first playable character, Purse. But Backpack Hero has a few other fellows to choose from as well, and they each play dramatically differently. You could also play as a mystic frog, who pulls items at random and uses the backpack as a strategic playing field; maybe you'll end up preferring the bird bard who can tear discreet specialized pockets into his backpack. These aren't just characters with different specialties, a la Slay the Spire, they're characters that totally reinvent the game (think of something like Dicey Dungeons for a good reference point).

[caption id="attachment_357591" align="alignnone" width="640"] Screenshot by Destructoid[/caption]

Backpack Hero also has various different character-specific challenge modes that force you to come up with builds that you might otherwise ignore. In addition to providing a ton of extra content, these challenges also expose exactly how deep customization can get in Backpack Hero. Synergies that might seem totally insignificant become vital when, for example, you can't use any traditional weapons. Brute force can be handy, but what if you played music for the enemy until they joined you like a temporary Pokémon? There's a lot to uncover in this game, and it's only getting bigger and more dynamic as time goes on.

[caption id="attachment_357598" align="alignnone" width="640"] Screenshot by Destructoid[/caption]

The game is still in early access, and the developer, Jaspel, has promised significant updates in the future. Apparently, there are plans to introduce a city-building mechanic to provide some progression hooks between runs, and I'm very excited to see how that turns out. To be honest, though, Backpack Hero already feels like more than enough for me. Backpack Hero, in its incomplete state, is richer and more engaging than plenty of full games I've played. I'm excited to see how it grows and changes in the future, but I don't think there's any reason to wait and see. What's there now is excellent, and there's a pleasantly hefty demo that you can try out if you're still not sure.

The post Backpack Hero is a deckbuilder that makes your inventory the game appeared first on Destructoid.