We might have played this deck type once before, but I can’t deny how fun it is to win by repeatedly throwing that cat into the oven.

As far as the decklist goes, the core of the previous version of it is all there. The real changes are in the removal suit. Rather than running Casualties of War, we’re using cheaper removal in the form of cards like Thrashing Brontodon, which also serves as a strong creature and a potential sacrifice trigger even if we don’t have any specific targets in mind. That said, the strategy is basically the same as it was last time.

What I find most interesting about this deck is that despite being built around the cat/oven synergy, there’s a lot of resilience on display, and ways to win even if neither card, or only one, of the two pieces hits our hand. While slower, we can still use Trail of Crumbs and Gilded Goose to generate food tokens that we can cash in either for Mayhem Devil or Korvold triggers. And if we do have our combo established, all of these pieces only work to push our advantage further to secure the win.

Or… we can go up against a self-mill deck and destroy their Jace, Wielder of Mysteries with a Murderous Rider just as they are preparing to draw their final card.

The plan after finishing Crash was to run the new Marvel Ultimate Alliance 3 content with Chris, but I foolishly forgot that I had uninstalled the game some time ago.

So instead I decided to start playing Spyro 2: Ripto’s Rage. Welcome to the magical world of Avalar, where we’ve been summoned to toast a new threat. And naturally, with new challenges comes and expanded arsenal.

First off, apologies once more for the audio balancing. It will be fixed in the next recording.

In the original version of Spyro 2, when a player achieves 100%, they unlock a version of the superflame power up that already exists in the game, except that it is a permanent upgrade. This benefit extends to all future runs as long as the 100% save game data exists. Naturally, this was carried over into the remake. I was hesitant to keep going with it for the sake of showing off the game better, but I ultimately think it’s okay play with superflame, since I can talk about what is made easier with that ability.

The glitch I was talking about in this episode was the Double Jump Glitch, which I was able to find references to on the Spyro wiki. I never knew its name growing up, just that it helped me complete challenges and find secrets that I clearly wasn’t supposed to be able to find without abilities I didn’t have. I’ll miss it, but I understand why they didn’t bother trying to bring it over in the Reignited Trilogy.

Aside from that, I want to call attention to the scene with Elora after beating Glimmer. Comparing the scene in the original version below to the reignited version(timestamp), there’s no change in lines. The key difference is in the delivery. There’s a slight bite to the original that conveys that both Spyro and Elora are still not quite friends since they only just met. This edge is softened in the new performances, which give off an impression that they immediately hit it off. Neither interpretation is bad, but one of those extremely slight details that I can’t help but pick up on since I’ve played this game so many times.

Of course, I would be remiss if I didn’t also point out how much better the intro cutscene looks in the new remake when compared to the original below, since the animators, modelers,  and actors have much more to work with. But it’s not just in higher quality models, either. The use of cinematography and camera work adds so much more to the reignited version of the scene than there was in the original.

All criticisms aside, Toys for Bob did excellent work in re-imagining both the Spyro and Crash trilogies, and they should be commended for that.

At long last, we have arrived at our final destination. After braving the trials and tribulations scatted across these isolated islands off the coast of Australia, our pal Crash Bandicoot, the blunder from Down Under, has foiled his creator’s plans for world domination via an army of mutated animals, and save his girlfriend Tawna.

His island castle burning crumbling, burning down around him, Dr. Neo Cortex has only one though: Revenge. Ambushing the reunited couple as they pilot their escape blimp, creator and creations clash.

In this episode, we conclude our adventures in the outback, with special guest Chris, from the Marvelous Duo.

Apologies for the audio balancing issues. I had to reconnect my Capture Card to my computer earlier that day because it was experiencing issues, and forgot to set the volume of the game recording down to it’s usual levels. Thankfully, both Chris is loud enough that he has no issues, and I am still audible, even if I’m quieter than I’d like.

Although we didn’t finish the cut, Stormy Ascent, I am still glad that we played it on stream to demonstrate how difficult it was. There is a good reason it’s on the cutting room floor instead of in the final game, but I’m happy that it was brought into the remake to give people a glimpse of what design choices had to be made.

Something I got to talk about here, but neglected to mention in other posts, is the surprising sense of world building, even in the original PS1 release, that exists in the details. It’s something as simple as seeing the after effects of Crash exploring the castle in the final boss, with it burning in the background as we fight Dr. Cortex. Even in earlier levels, the castle is often in the background to remind the player what their final destination is going to be. Or how the third island is noticeably more “industrial” than the other two, with machinery and power plant levels helping fill in extraneous detail for how Cortex runs his operation.

While I don’t think the original Crash Bandicoot aged well, it served as a valuable piece of gaming history for being a pioneer in the space of 3D platforming, even before Super Mario 64. Further, it paved the way for the later games in the franchise, which are games that I still play semi-regularly. Crash Bandicoot 2: Cortex Strikes Back is one of my favorite PS1 games, and I look forward to playing it with the rest of you here.

Our adventures in the Down Under continue, as we try to save our girlfriend(?) from an evil scientist. Also, we’re a mutated bandicoot going up against mechanical sentries and other mutant animals.

Join us as we traverse old ruins, cross treacherous bridges, and fumble in the dark, and climb the castle walls. This is Crash Bandicoot.

As I replay the original Crash game as a part of the N Sane Trilogy, what sticks out to me is just how easy it is to identify the era it’s from. The PS1 version was released in September 1996, and that’s about when I would’ve guessed it came out if I had not looked it up.

Even with an updated presentation and quality-of-life improvements, there’s a roughness to the way it plays that strongly invokes the feeling of that time in game design. Death can set players back quite a way, and any one mistake and be instantly lethal.

But beyond that, it’s also very 90s in its aesthetic and attitude. Like Sonic the Hedgehog, Crash basically exists in antithesis to the softer, more subdued plumber from Nintendo, as highlighted by his famous commercial below. Crash meant to be the new, “cooler” platform mascot, something the kids could latch onto as edgier, without being too edgy.

It’s as much a time capsule as it is a game, hearkening back to an nostalgia era from my childhood. The remake isn’t perfect, but it captures the essence of what Crash Bandicoot was so that other people can go back and explore it in a historic context. It’s telling that even with the analog stick at my disposal, I would much rather use the d-pad when playing because of the level design and mechanics.

And shout-out to Koala Kong, who is a very handsome marsupial.

I’m sure by the time you’re reading this, you’ve probably already gotten tired of the discourse surrounding Death Stranding. Such seems to be the story with most of the people I know, even ones who like it. And yet, as I was trekking along the snowy peaks surrounding Mountain Knot City, an insidious though began to creep into my mind, one that I couldn’t shake even as I began to reach the end of the game.
Taking place in a post-apocalyptic America where the barriers between the human world and the afterlife are worn thin, Death Stranding has the player assume the role of Sam Porter Bridges, a courier working for Bridges, a subsidiary of the United Cities of America (UCA). His objective, set forth by Acting President Samantha America “Amelie” Strand, is to travel westward, starting from Capital Knot City in the east, to annex the various cities and shelters across the remnants of the old country in order to “make us whole”. As a student of United States history, this began to draw parallels to the real life doctrine of Manifest Destiny.
For those of you who are unfamiliar with the term, Manifest Destiny is the 19th century concept that the American people were special, and had a divine mandate to expand their territory, extolling the virtues of their own democratic civilization and way of thinking. Not only was this the moral duty of America, according to proponents, but it was natural and inevitable for the nation to recreate the world in their own, enlightened image. While this can be directly correlated to America’s expansion from east-to-west in the 1800s, vestiges of the doctrine exist today in the form of American exceptionalism that national leaders use to justify conflicts in other regions of the world.
It doesn’t take too much effort to see the immediate parallels. Like the settlers of the original thirteen colonies, Sam’s quest is about bringing already populated locations into the American government, under the pretense that doing so is in the best interest of the residents. Early in the game, the people he encounters are all members of the previous task force sent out to do the same thing, but didn’t have the equipment necessary to finish the job by connecting each location to the “chiral network,” this world’s version of the super internet. Since they are already more-or-less part of the UCA government, the issue doesn’t come up.
This starts to change as we reach the middle of the country. While members of the first group still certainly dot the map, most of the settlements are owned and maintained by doomsday-preppers and their descendants, who had shelters established prior to the apocalypse. Naturally, many of them have no desire to join up with the remnants of a fallen nation. As a courier, Sam has to take on and fulfill enough orders from them to convince them that it is worth giving America and its network a chance. On one hand, there is Death Stranding’s overt, surface interpretation of what is going on here: That by assisting these preppers, the player is helping them overcome their fears and see the value in forming connections with other people.
But more subtly, there’s the less obvious lesson being taught here, the one that needs to be fully dissected. By completing orders to transport valuable cargo to these locations, Sam is exposing them to the wonders of the UCA, and what “America” can both physically and metaphorically “deliver” to their own, pre-existing societies. Once they acquire a taste of this greatness, even if it takes multiple missions to do so, it’s only the natural, logical conclusion that they would be better off if they allowed themselves to be annexed and assimilated into “America”. Even someone like The Elder, an old man who has become rightfully distrustful of nations since he witnessed a pre-apocalypse US where leaders “wanted to build a wall along the whole damn border”, will gladly give that same nation a second chance after experiencing what it can provide. It is almost as if becoming a part of the UCA, a part of America, is the inevitable, logical conclusion of all people Sam encounters on his quest.
As for whether or not America is blessed by God, we cannot broach this subject without delving into many of the late game spoilers for Death Stranding. After finished his westward exodus in Edge Knot City, “completing the chiral network” and “making America whole”, Sam learns that Amelie is actually an “extinction entity”. Her sole reason for being is to herald in the next mass extinction event, as the source of the current apocalypse. In layman’s terms, she’s powerful enough to destroy the world, and will eventually be compelled to do so whether she wants to or not.
Being the protagonist of the story, Sam eventually confronts her in the afterlife (it makes sense in context). Rather than attempt to fight or kill her, he convinces her that the people he has connected with deserve to have a chance to prepare for and survive the apocalypse by working together. Seeing “extinction as an opportunity” for mankind to better themselves, she relents and promises to buy mankind as much time as she can. It’s a moment that reaffirms the idea that we are better when we unite as one… or does it?
After all, the “connections” Sam formed aren’t just metaphorical, in the sense that he’s growing closer to other people. They are very literal connections to the chiral network, by which the UCA exerts its influence across territories annexed under its banner. Under this context, Amelie, in all her vast power, the closest thing this world has to a literal God, is blessing Sam with more time for the very explicit purpose of continuing his efforts to acquire even more territory. One day, once the UCA has expanded far enough and acquired all the knowledge it can, it will be fully equipped to shield humanity from the inevitable apocalypse and shepherd it into a new age. Such is the divine mandate from Acting President Samantha America Strand.
Now, I want to clarify that I sincerely doubt Japanese game developers like Hideo Kojima and his team would have any idea what Manifest Destiny is, nor the context behind the themes I’m outlining. Let us not pretend that this interpretation was part of his intended vision. However, just because it wasn’t the team’s intent does not make it any less valid. We all have implicit and explicit biases that color the works we produce and what we take away from the art of others. And yet, I cannot help but see the similarities between the events in Death Stranding to what real world political thinkers truly believed, and grow weary at the thought. It is worth examining the fiction we consume so that we don’t accidentally produce messages that could negative impact the people we seek to enrich with our stories.

Once more, we return to the Arena, but our creatures have other plans. While some are just fine being summoned to the field, others would rather spend their time on their own adventures and misadventures first.

Suits me just fine, because my Golgari Adventures deck is set to make the most of their pioneering spirit.

Check out the decklist from MTGGoldfish.

The two most useful tools we have at our disposal are Edgewall Innkeeper and Lucky Clover, so much so that it can often be worthwhile to mulligan otherwise good hands if they don’t contain at least one of these cards. Both of them accrue tons of extra value, Edgewall Innkeeper in the form of extra cards and Lucky Clover by copying the effects of our adventures.

And we have a glut of powerful effects to copy, like Foulmire Knight that can exchange some life and mana for cards, and/or be played as a 1/1 with deathtouch to keep attacks at bay. Murderous Rider, one of the most powerful removal spells in the format, gets even better when copied, turning into a lifelink body with decent stats afterward. Beanstalk Giant also takes advantage of Lucky Clover, allowing us to place multiple basic lands untapped onto the battlefield to extend potential make another play on that same turn, even if it’s just a Foulmire Knight. When we’re ready to cast it, it can be a massive beater to quickly close out a game.

While we’re not really playing Lovestruck Beast for its adventure, it can certainly help gum up an incoming attack. With it’s own 1/1 human, along with our Innkeepers and Foulmire Knights, we have so many 1/1s in the deck that it’s quite likely by the time we can cast the Lovestruck Beast as a creature, we have satisfied the conditions to let it attack and block. And if either of them bite the dust (or any other valuable creature), we can use Order of Midnight to bring them back for a second chance.

What you may have noticed already is that despite being an adventure deck, we have accidentally included a large number of mono-black knights. For that reason, it is appropriate to include the Smitten Swordmaster as a potential late-game win condition. With a Lucky Clover or two out, and enough knights on board, the adventure half of the card can dramatically swing the game in an instant. It didn’t happen on stream, but I only took my opponent from 13 life to 0 with a single application of this card, copied by Lucky Clover. And in a pinch, it’s a body that we can use to fill out our board state.

As for non-theme pieces, Midnight Reaper can allow us to draw cards if our board gets cleared, which will keep us in the game. And with games running as long as they do, Casualties of War becomes a great removal tool to destroy just whatever has become a problem on the opponent’s board. 6-mana is actually perfectly reasonable to achieve, and with our ramp and otherwise low CMC we’ll likely be able to make additional plays on top of it to take advantage of the opening.

It may not be the best deck, but it is powerful and a ton of fun to play.

With the dragons rescued, and the Dragon Realms are at peace for a time. So for now, Spyro and Sparx deserve a much needed rest.

Let us set our sights somewhere else… like the Australian outback. There, a mad scientist duo is hatching a plan for world domination via an army of mutated animals. One experiment went wrong, and that may just be the one that brings their whole plan crumbling down.

We’re going Down Under with Crash Bandicoot.

In case it wasn’t clear, this won’t be the same walk in the park that Spyro was. Crash Bandicoot was infamous for its difficulty way back when. Though the N Sane Trilogy version implements many quality of life improvements, it’s doesn’t change the core level design and layout.

Unlike Spyro, where we could take several hits before eventually dying, Crash is extremely fragile. He has to find masks to protect him, where Spyro starts each new life with Sparx fully charged and ready to keep him safe. But even with a mask, most hazards are related to falls and drowning, which cannot be protected against.

And this is in part due to the vastly different design philosophies around both franchises. Spyro levels tend to be marked by wide open expanses that players are tasked with exploring every nook and cranny of to find every last secret and complete every challenge. It’s less about precision and more about finding the right path to arrive at the destination.

On the other hand, Crash requires significantly more precision in it’s platforming. Timing is critical, as is the ability to judge distances, and one false move will often lead directly to death. Part of this comes from the fact that the first two Crash games predate the first Spryo, and so there were lessons learned in the years since. But even then, there’s just a fundamental separation between the two design philosophies.

This is something I hope to explore more as we progress through both trilogies.

At last, we have arrived at the end of our quest, and every Dragon Daddy has been rescued from their crystal prison. And after a tense, thrilling, and difficult fight against Gnasty Gnorc, we save the day.

But more than that, we managed to find Gnasty’s secret meme collection. No, this is not a joke.

As we’ve talked about repeatedly on stream, the “boss fights” in the first Spyro game are notoriously weak. They feel less like battles against strong opponents and more like extremely light platforming challenges that barely compete with any of the other levels. On one hand, I can appreciate a desire to double down on the design aspects that best highlight the strength of Spyro’s kit.

But then I think about the fact that Gnasty Gnorc is supposed to be the grand finale. He’s the big threat that set us on our journey in the first place. Having him hide behind a couple of nameless thieves, only to run away from us the moment we rise to his platform is just more than a bit disappointing. Despite his immense size and stature, he barely even attacks us.

Thankfully, once we achieve 100%, Gnasty’s Loot is a much more fitting finale. One of the coolest things a Spyro level can allow us to do is engage in free flight, and that level is fully dedicated to it. Even better, they give us the satisfaction of being able to increase our maximum flight height by torching thieves and using the keys they drop to rise even higher. Even better is the feeling of seeing the gem count rise so extraordinarily high.

Definitely a good way to send off our favorite purple dragon for a time, even if it’s only a short time.

The adventure continues! Fresh from our training in the Peace Keepers world, we collect treasure, defeated egg-stealing thieves, and more importantly…

…rescue hot dragon daddies.

Since we completed all of the Beast Makers world in this update, this seems like a good time to talk about the amount of extra detail that the team at Toys for Bob added to this game in the Reignited Trilogy.

Looking at the Reignited Trilogy’s version of the world, the level feels like a real swamp. There are trees and canopies in the background, with little details like stumps and small amounts of grass protruding from the water in the background. Further, while the water itself doesn’t look sanitary, and I wouldn’t want to be in it or drink from it, it has a quality reminiscent of real world swamps.

Even before I took another look at what the original version of this home world looked like again, it was obvious that a lot of work went into bringing in into HD. Seeing it again, what I forgot to what extent the level looked… almost barren. And this isn’t a knock on Insomniac, because this was just the reality of working on old consoles, where memory was such a massive consideration that the exactly location data was stored on the disc had to be planned out. They did everything they could with the resources allotted.

But one can just see how all of the details that needed to be painted in by the player’s imagination are how here, in plain sight. There are a ton of examples throughout the rest of the game, and the trilogy, but this is the most obvious and immediately apparent one.

The artists, animators, and modelers working on this project should be absolutely proud of themselves for what they were able to achieve.

While there were many excellent games that game out over the past year, not every one of them lives up. We’ve got through my list of Highlights for the year, and just as always we too must go through the disappointments of the year in kind.
Every year, I usually find at least one or two games that end up on both lists for different reasons. In compiling this year’s collection, I noticed that this happened with far, far more games than usual, for a variety of different reasons.
As usual, just because a game appears on this list doesn’t necessarily mean it’s bad. All it means is that there are significant aspects of it that I feel detract from the overall whole. Further, this list is presented in a completely random order.
Without further ado, the disappointments of 2019 are:
Marvel Ultimate Alliance 3: The Black Order
While I can certainly heap praise on this game after playing it with my buddy, Acharky, there’s no way I couldn’t just let it go without addressing the elephant in the room.
It was certainly surreal to see the Guardians of the Galaxy as the first set of playable characters, but that is where my appreciation of the MCU’s influence comes to an abrupt and sudden end. To be blunt, I am tired of every single Marvel crossover product being some variant of the quest to obtain the Infinity Stones, culminating in some final confrontation against Thanos, Ultron or whatever big bad happens to be the primary villain of the MCU. I understand that it has to be this way, because that’s just what in the popular zeitgeist, but the sheer homogeneity and over-saturation is starting to get to me.
But more than that, Ultimate Alliance 3 felt… way too familiar. The last UA game came out way back in September of 2009, nearly a full decade prior to The Black Order’s release in June. We’ve learned much about how to design video games in the years since, even if the specific niche of 4-player online co-op games. I find it hard to believe that we can’t do more than just a series of linear corridors filled with enemies and rudimentary puzzles.
There’s also a sheer lack of quality of life features like how heroes outside the chosen party of four just don’t gain experience in a game with a 36 playable character cast just isn’t acceptable anymore. I shouldn’t have to grind up another character just because I want to try something new.
In terms of online play, Acharky had an issue where because I was the host player, and 3 of our 4 party members were on my profile, he wasn’t able to dynamically swap characters. If his was knocked out, he might as well go grab a sandwich while I use the other 3 to either clean up or die. This is actually a regression from Ultimate Alliance 1 and 2, where we never had this problem.
Ultimate Alliance 3 isn’t a bad game, but I just expect so much more at this point.
Far Cry: New Dawn
After the god awful Far Cry 5, this sequel’s mere existence disappoints me.
Crash Team Racing: Nitro Fueled
If you weren’t following what was going on with Crash Team Racing post-release, you’ll probably be surprised that this is on the list after I gave it so much praise in my highlights post.
I stand behind those words, but I can’t abide by how Activision has treated it. At first, I was excited about the various Grand Prix events, which allowed players to grind challenges throughout the month in order to unlock cosmetic items. Seeing Spyro join the ranks of playable characters through one of these Grands Prix was like a dream come true for me.
As more of them were announced, I began to shift my opinion. Specifically, I was getting tired and worn down trying to keep up with them while also getting enough free time available to play other games and deal with the issues that crop up in daily life. Weak as I am, I even caved and bought a few packs of “Wumpa Coins” to pay for some of the cosmetics I wanted, which became available for purchase after the game came out, reviewers had already submitted their opinions of the game, and the ESRB had already green-lit the box-art.
A veteran of the Overwatch special event economy, I had begun to comprehend what was going on: That this economy was being created to milk the current user base, exhaust them to the point where they feel compelled to purchase enough Wumpa Coins to keep up with the items being released during the Grands Prix.
It’s hard to state how difficult it is to swallow that one’s own nostalgia is being weaponized against them, but thanks the exact state I found myself in, and so I cut myself off from it all and just gave up on all future Grand Prix events.
I’ll likely play Crash Team Racing again, but given how far this version has fallen it’s hard to recommend it to people the way I want to.
Wolfenstein: Youngblood
As a shooter, I had fun playing Wolfenstein: Youngblood. While there isn’t much besides the wide-open Arkane Studios-designed levels and RPG systems separating it from another cooperative first-person shooter, this was a competently designed one of those.
The problem comes from several crucial design decisions. One of them being that even when playing single-player (Note: I still needed to be connected to their servers), with an AI controlled partner, I wasn’t able to pause the game. If I ever wanted to take a break, I had to hope I was in an area where no enemies could get to me, or just quit the game otherwise. Yet, because the game doesn’t have checkpoints, every time the other Blazkowicz sister (read: The idiot AI) used up all of our shared lives, or quit the game, I was sent back to the beginning of whatever section was the most recent one to load. Losing thirty minutes worth of progress to a game over was not uncommon.
On top of that, being an always online game, with daily quests and a progression system, it obviously included cosmetic items and one-time use boosts that can be purchased with a premium currency paid for with real-world money. That currency: Nazi Gold…. because of course it is.
At least they didn’t have the gall to charge full price for this game.
Kingdom Hearts 3
This is going to be hard to write about without getting heavy into spoilers, but I’ll do my best.
Kingdom Hearts 3 has a problem where despite the seeming urgency of the plot at hand, not much of note actually happens until the very end of the game, once all of the Disney worlds have been completed. As a result, there’s a massive pacing issue where once the plot actually gets underway, it goes by so quickly that events that have been building up for years don’t have the breathing room for players to feel their weight.
Beyond that, the Disney worlds are exceptionally hit-or-miss this time around. Some of them, like the Toy Story, Monsters Inc., and Big Hero 6 worlds, do an amazing job at remixing and working within the original source material to create a great story that brings the best out of the Kingdom Hearts original characters and the Disney characters.
Other worlds, like Frozen, Tangled, and Pirates of the Caribbean 3 just blatantly rehash the story of the original movie while shoehorning some tasks involving Sora, Donald, and Goofy that neatly section them off from the actual story going around them. It gives off the impression that Disney is being too precious with its IP and deciding that it doesn’t want to play ball despite being one of the companies most eager to resell and re-brand classic fairy tales while pretending they own the rights to them. I felt embarrassed for Nomura’s sake when I saw that there was a literal shot-for-shot remake of “Let It Go”, with Sora interjecting with the occasional “Is that Elsa’s voice!?” and “Wow! Look at that!” in the brief pauses between stanzas where the performer took a breath.
I’d say I expect better, but this is Disney we’re talking about. They’re one of the worst things to ever happen to IP law and this is completely normal for them. Disappointing, but not surprising.
And if you’ll indulge me in minor spoilers: They did Kairi dirty.
Sea of Solitude

I feel bad about putting this here. A co-worker recommended it to me because they said it personally affected them, but I didn’t get anywhere near as much out of it as they did. Like Unraveled, this was published by EA as part of their EA Originals initiative to fund smaller, more expressive projects.

And while Sea of Solitude does tell a story of a family going through a messy situation through strong visual metaphors and motifs, I can’t help but feel that I’ve seen it all before. At the risk of sounding callous, it felt like playing the “Sad, Artistic Indie Platformer, Version 206”.
Having already played the likes of Papa Y Yo, which this game strongly reminded me of, it takes more than to impress me these days. There’s nothing the game does wrong, but nor is there anything that made it stand out.
Tom Clancy’s The Division 2

To be honest, I forgot that The Division 2 came out this year. I even had a group that I was playing it with shortly after it came out.

I could say I put it on this year’s list for Ubisoft’s pathetic stance on politics in games: That a game whose opening implies only gun-owners stood a chance in the post-apocalypse, and makes the player’s base of operations the White House has no political leanings whatsoever. However, while these facts are true, it would be disingenuous of me to say that I had any significant emotions whatsoever on that topic beyond finding the whole debacle hilarious.
I have no memory of consciously dropping The Division 2. It was more that whenever I even remotely felt the urge to launch it, I felt like there was always another game that deserved my attention more or that I would have more fun playing. And eventually, months later, I uninstalled it to make space for something else in my hard drive… probably Hitman 2 after a content update.
I wish I had more to say, but it’s The Division 2. It’s an Ubisoft shooter. You already knew how you felt about that before you saw it on this list.
Magic the Gathering: Arena

Since Arena is intrinsically, inherently linked to the goings on in physical, paper Magic: The Gathering, their quality will largely ebb and flow together.

And while the Standard play environment has been rock solid for the better part of the year, the recent release of Throne of Eldraine, combined with the rotation, has resulted in one deck archetype dominating all the others, and then another different doing the same after that first one got it’s key card banned. As of the time of writing, enough cards have been banned that the meta is starting to fall back into a healthy place, but I cannot deny that, were it not for my Commander format playgroup, my desire to keep playing might have been thoroughly sapped.
With regards to Arena specifically, it’s also had its share of problems over the past year. The first was the way it handled rotation, with the advent of the new Historic format to allow users to play with cards that had rotated out of Standard. The controversy game from the fact that the Arena team decided to make Historic-only cards cost twice as many resources to craft as regular cards. While they eventually backed down from this change, the fact that they thought it was a good idea at all left a sour taste in my mouth.
On top of that, we’ve seen them double down some of the worst monetization trends of the year. When the option to sell card packs already exists and is fully implemented in the game, it feels like double-dipping to do the same for cosmetics like player icon, card sleeves, and alternate art for the cards I already own. Then I was floored when I logged in to find an additional Fortnite-style Battle Pass system implemented on top of all that. This has become more-or-less the only long-tail service game I play, and even then I can’t help but feel nickel-and-dimed at every opportunity.
It’s the kind of thing that makes me want to quit, to be honest, despite how much I actually love the act of playing Arena.
Telling Lies

For those of you familiar Sam Barlow’s previous game, Her Story, may or may not even be aware that his latest game in that “genre” came out this year. I was looking out for this game, and I didn’t know it was coming out until the day of.

And despite how much obvious care and attention went into it, I don’t think it’s quite as good as its predecessor, for two key reasons. First being that, without spoilers, the “central mystery” was a lot easier to solve this time around. Whether it was by design or by luck, I had already figured out most of the major plot point conclusively before I had even seen half of the available videos. There were obviously small details I was missing, but nothing that changed the context of the story.
Secondly, there’s a crucial UI change that drove me mad after about an hour after I discovered it, and my playthrough was eight whole hours. In Her Story, the base premise is that players are navigating a database of video clips. By searching for a term or phrase, they get back the five clips where that term is used most often. From there, then clue onto new terms that can search up new videos and repeat until satisfied.
The problem arises once a video is selected for playback. Instead of logically starting a clip from the very beginning, they start from the first mention of the term searched. When that first use happens six minutes into and eight minute clip, and the player needs to spend several minutes rewinding it just to make sure they don’t miss key terms or information, that can be exceptionally painful. Doubly so when said player is me and I didn’t realize that was the case until I had already seen an hour’s worth of partial clips.
Since the clips are from webcam conversations this time around, I would have also liked the option to view them side by side to get the full context in one viewing, as opposed to having to search for the other clip in the conversation to get the full picture, but that’s nowhere near as problematic as the other UI issue.
It’s a game I’m glad I played, but a couple of serious UI issues make it more of a chore than I would want it to be.
Death Stranding

“A ‘strand’ is a word that describes a connection between people, but the act of being ‘stranded’ is the lack of said connection. I am a deep and meaningful thinker. Please respect me.” – Hideo Kojima, probably.

It would be beyond simple to just leave it there, or even worse, just spout meme after pointless meme that has become the norm with Death Stranding discourse in my particular friend group. But not only does that do a disservice to the game, it does a disservice to my utter contempt for the worst aspects of it.
The core gameplay is surprisingly fun, and I grew to think fondly of the delivery mechanics, yet I got the impression that Death Stranding was almost afraid that they wouldn’t be enough to pull their metaphorical weight. Any time I found myself in one of the third-person shooter sections, or in a boss battle against a giant tar monster, I found the exercise exceedingly tedious. At no point would I ever call it challenging, nor was I having an even remotely stimulating experience. The same was true for the times I needed to sneak past “Beached Things” to avoid risking my haul.
And if the “quote” prefacing this section was any indication, I was never able to take any part of seriously. When my friends and I all started, I had heard its quality referred to as both “first-year film student” and “stoned at Denny’s” respectively, and by the time I finished that feeling had only grown stronger.
Even if there was more meat to the kind of message the team was trying to convey, it’s often undercut by various layers within the games own presentation. It’s downright distracting to have Sam Porter Bridges, played by critically acclaimed Norman Reedus, to say a bike is so cool that itshould be on Ride with Norman Reedus, or drinking out of a canteen and seeing the phrase “Monster Energy drink consumed” plastered on my screen. Being simultaneously asked to take this third-grader’s view of how “disconnected we all are, maaaaaaaaaaaaaan-ah” seriously while being subject to what certainly feels like crass corporate sponsorship began to wear on my nerves in a way that genuinely surprised me.
I wasn’t one of the people expecting this game to be the next godsend, but nor was I expecting the writing to get this bad. I’m glad I played Death Stranding, but now that it’s done I never want to do so again.
Bloodstained: Ritual of the Night

This wouldn’t even have made the list if it weren’t for the fact that I played on the Switch. Even discounting the well-known technical issues that plagued that version, I remember having an extremely visceral reaction at the texture work on the character models, especially since it didn’t seem like the game was technically demanding enough to warrant such a downgrade.

Normally, even this should be unremarkable, but the downgrade was serious enough that it caused me some eye strain until I managed to adjust: Actual, genuine ocular discomfort. That’s a sensation that I’ve been lucky enough to never encounter before or since.
Metro Exodus

It makes me sad that I’m so lukewarm on this game after having a blast with Last Light.

The biggest change to the Metro formula are the semi-open levels, since the story has protagonist Artyom and the group he works with escaping the subway tunnels and exploring the world outside of their little hovel.
Sadly, the openness of these specific levels never adds anything to the experience. It felt much like the open-worlds in Metal Gear Solid V: The Phantom Pain, where there were discrete areas of interest and a vast ocean of nothingness between them. I couldn’t help but think that I would be having a better time if that walk was skipped and I just had a loading screen separating me from my destination.
And unlike previous Metro games, I didn’t find myself interested in the story. By the time I grew invested in whatever group of strangers my ragtag bunch of Russian misfits had allied with for a particular section, we were already set to move on and leave them to their fate.
Even when it came to the moment-to-moment gameplay, there were numerous times where I experienced a technical issue that caused me to keep to reload a checkpoint, or the linear section I was in was so poorly presented that I still somehow got lost. While the shooting is competent, it’s not interesting enough to soothe the pain I kept experiencing from all of the little problems I had during my time with Exodus.
It’s such a bummer that the Metro trilogy ends on a sour note.
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And there we go. This was mostly a solid year, but there’s no denying the modern monetization methods detracted from more than a few games I would otherwise have no problems with. Other games just had issues on their own, but by and large, despite this list, 2019 was marked by games that catered to exactly my interests.
Hope to see the same in 2020.
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