In my opinion, the art of the farewell was mastered in 1990, when Joe Dante made hundreds of Gremlin puppets perform a show-stopping rendition of Sinatra’s “New York, New York” at the conclusion of Gremlins 2. I would love for my sign-off to reach those same heights, but there’s only so much one man can do in a WordPress document. So to that end, I simply say:

Goodbye.

Writing and producing Duke Nukem jokes for Video Game Choo Choo has comprised some of the best years of my life, and the people I’ve met and friends I’ve made are ones I can’t imagine leaving any time soon. Unfortunately, as I move through life and make plans, I realize the place I’m heading doesn’t necessarily feature a career in the games industry. Thus, I’m stepping away to move my efforts elsewhere.

The site’s grown astronomically in the last year (with little involvement from me anyway), and I’m thrilled to see where it goes in the future. I’ll always consider my work for Chooch an amazing opportunity, and I thank John for taking a chance on me a few years back. In the end, I can’t wait to-

-I’m sorry?

I never finished what?

…

A Week of Garfield?

…

Oh, god.

This is never going to end, is it?

The post Ryan’s Goodbye Post appeared first on Gamesline.

According to publisher Ysbryd Games, the upcoming title moves the action from Glitch City to Saint Alicia, an “idyllic paradise” which conceals “a seedy underbelly” of “mafia extortion, trafficking, and other sordid crimes.” Players take control of Sam, a bartender working to support her son Tony and contend with her partner’s work as a Yakuza. Against a backdrop of crime, augmentations, and colorful characters, Sam seeks to “put her misdeeds behind her” as she mixes drinks and changes lives.

N1RV Ann-a is slated for a 2020 release, which means it might be a while before we dive back into Sukeban’s stylish creations. The game is planned for Steam, Switch, and PS4, with both English and Chinese language support. There’s no telling what paths N1RV Ann-a will lead us down, but since VA11 Hall-A was VGCC’s Game of the Year, we’ll be looking forward to the journey.

Check out N1RV Ann-a’s trailer below:

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Filled with the requisite hip 20-somethings playing Nintendo Switch in hip locations, Super Mario Party’s trailer showed off a bevy of minigames, all of which play to the Switch’s various capabilities.

Super Mario Party seems like business as usual for the series, but an on-the-go edition might be the perfect addition for a console like the Switch. The game releases October 5th, 2018.

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The extended preview featured a wandering samurai fighting off troops of a Mongol invasion, slicing and dicing with all the gory style you would expect from a one who has studied the blade. The gameplay seems to provide multiple approaches for various situations, but also appears to put a large focus on stealth-based gameplay.

In classic samurai fashion, the demo concluded with a sword showdown at sunset, proving Ghost of Tsushima is in it to win it when it comes to points for style. No word on a release date, but the game certainly looks like it’s out to scratch that Witcher 3 or Metal Gear Rising itch.

Check out the trailer below!

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Although narrative details are scarce, the appeal of the game comes from being able to play the title on both phones and on consoles – with added VR support. Much fanfare was made of the game’s ability to be played in both landscape and portrait mode, with Howard emphasizing that the game is intended for mobile play.

The Elder Scrolls: Blades will have three modes: A “Town” mode focused on rebuilding a settlement, “Abyss,” which explores roguelike generated dungeons, and “Arena,” a 1v1 PVP mode. Although the game won’t arrive until later this year, you’ll be able to register for early access.

Check out the trailer below!

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Check out the trailer and get battling below!

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Instead, the presentation focused on a gameplay demonstration, which you can check out below. There’s still no solid release date, but it’s likely to launch in Spring 2019 for PC, PS4, and Xbox One. Knowing Bethesda, it’ll be on Switch before we know it.

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Arriving some ten years after its predecessor, PixelJunk Monsters 2 is a game which feels tailor-made for Switch in the same way the original shone brightest on PSP. Both are tower defense games with a bright, outdoorsy aesthetic, simple mechanics, and levels which are easy to pick up, put down, learn, and revisit. The major difference is that PixelJunk Monsters 2 makes the jump to 3D, opening a whole new dimension of gameplay and movement – which proves to be both a blessing and a curse.

Those unfamiliar with the first installment will have no problem picking up PixelJunk Monsters 2, as the “How To Play” section is quite extensive. That being said, the basics are almost instinctual. The core gameplay revolves around transforming pre-placed trees into towers, which can attack ground enemies, air enemies, or both. You build and upgrade these fortifications using gold and gems dropped by foes, protecting your precious “Chibis” from increasingly nasty waves of monsters. Surviving a level with all twenty Chibis gives you a Rainbow Fragment, which are used to unlock new areas.

It’s within this central gameplay loop that PixelJunk Monsters 2 shines the brightest. The levels are generally well-designed, the tower selection allows for varied strategy, and perfecting a stage on any of the three difficulties is immensely satisfying. Although the game currently only has fifteen levels spread across five areas, the real challenge lies in learning and perfecting each stage permutation to collect the all-important Rainbow Fragment. The strategy completionist in me loves this aspect of the game, as it provides no end of playing and tinkering before you can push through to success.

The cogs and gears which form the central experience of PixelJunk Monsters 2 seem straightforward, and they are. The only frills on the game’s core are the ability to customize player character Tikiman’s mask and shield, and new power fruits which can inflict various conditions such as burning or freezing on enemies when stepped upon. I enjoy this simplicity, as it provides a versatile template which can be appreciated by newcomers and seasoned players alike. Unfortunately, the basic nature of the gameplay is complicated by the game’s newfound ambitions regarding the third dimension.

Attempting to translate a top-down two-dimensional title into a 3D experience isn’t necessarily a bad thing, but PixelJunk Monsters 2 seems completely unsure of what to do with its additional plane. The game adds an optional third-person camera mode, which is fantastic for traversing the overworld and appreciating the gorgeous graphics, but functionally useless for a genre so dependent on knowing what’s happening on a map at all times. This lack of awareness is where Monsters 2 really suffers, as it extends far beyond an optional perspective.

Whereas the first PixelJunk Monsters provides a cut-and-dry overhead view of the entire level, Monsters 2 focuses the eye-in-the-sky on Tikiman, only revealing what’s directly around him at any given time. You can move the view a bit in any of the cardinal directions, but the game entirely lacks any sort of zoom or map function. Instead, you can only ascertain the level by running around and exploring it, removing critical time from laying your defenses. There were many times when a wave began and I had no idea from where it was approaching, simply because I didn’t have time to properly traverse the level. Although the idea of stricter time management in a tower defense game is a good direction, it’s done better here by spending gems to improve towers versus standing next to them and taking the time for an “upgrade dance” – not by running down the clock trying to ascertain the fundamentals of a stage.

It’s as if the game was constructed with complete lack of regard for how its components would interact. The core experience is wonderful, but it’s undercut by a system which is so preoccupied with allowing players to appreciate the visuals that it ignores the core tenets of a tower defense game. The idea of building towers on higher ground for more range is amazing, but Tikiman often slides down slopes or gets stuck up against rocks while jumping for those taller trees. Adding traversal hazards for Tikiman such as pits and lakes could be compelling, but instead their true peril is how they hinder resource collection, often by acting as inaccessible sinkholes for any loose coins or gems which bounce inside when dropped. PixelJunk Monsters 2 expands on the idea of playing a character in a level instead of being the hand of god, but it does so in all the wrong ways.

The ideas are good, but they often fall flat. After a couple waves, enemies will begin to take different paths through a level – but it’s impossible to tell which path, especially when you might not even know what the entire stage looks like. The online co-op mode is fantastic in concept, but not so much when I realized the game will warp players closer to each other to keep them all on the same screen, preventing individual players from working to secure distant portions of the map. Once again, the lack of a total overhead view bites PixelJunk Monsters 2 hard.

It can be frustrating, sure, but overall I’ve enjoyed the game. The aesthetic is wonderful, the essential gameplay is solid, and the challenge provides me with a decent reason to pick up and play a stage or two on the go. It’s been a net positive, but unfortunately, the devil is in the details. There might be some who aren’t as bothered by PixelJunk Monsters 2’s problems as I am, just as I’m sure there are those who despise them even more. If you’re a tower defense fan looking for a title with a good balance between price point and content, or even someone looking to break into the genre, you could certainly do worse. PixelJunk Monsters 2 may not be my next big strategy game, but it’s a decent stepping stone on the journey forwards.

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Consider it this way: how many times have we experienced developers, storefronts, players, and even journalists crying wolf on games that simply aren’t good? Unpleasant, boring, or just plain half-baked titles such as Wild Animal Racing, Lift It, and the entire canon of Digital Homicide subsist on the train wreck gawking of the Internet at at large. Some personality, be it a streamer,  YouTuber, games writer, or whomever, scrapes tripe off Steam’s front page for onlookers to gawk and jeer at the sheer audacity of someone to birth such a turd into the world. This, of course, initiates an endless cycle of players purchasing the game for irony’s sake, and developers using that perfectly spendable cash to create more terrible titles, such as Bad Rats Show and Bubsy: The Woolies Strike Back.

As we watch, purchase, play, and share these titles, we indicate they’re adventures worth taking. Most of the time, they aren’t. Once the giggles wear off, the experience is hollow, the wallet is empty, and the wolf doesn’t exist. I myself am guilty of taking part in this system, and that would be okay if the consequences were limited to my personal bubble. However, that isn’t the case: public perception of large-scale services such as Steam Greenlight has grown so poisoned by our implicit support of poor and insincere games that titles of genuine quality are trampled underfoot and never find the recognition they deserve.

So, what happens when a Steam game worth playing is waylaid thanks to its aesthetic and low-budget vibes? What happens when the wolf turns out to be real?

This is the wolf in question, which is actually a rat.

This is the unfortunate case of Ratz Instagib, a one-shot one-kill online FPS which appears as bizarro streaming fodder, but is almost certainly one of the best multiplayer Steam games of the last five years. If you’ve never heard of it, you aren’t alone. Outside of the errant streamer and odd game bundle, Ratz ultimately fails to occupy any space in gaming culture whatsoever. Its two biggest boosts were a 2015 video by YouTuber Jerma985, and a brief PC Gamer profile in 2016. The game’s player base peaked at 2,037 after inclusion in a September 2015 bundle, before immediately plunging to 31 players in October. This is an average count which subsists to this day. You could say the Ratz Instagib community disappeared, but it’s more accurate to say it never existed at all.

Ratz Instagib was dead on arrival, and it’s not hard to see why. The title conjures unfortunate associations to Bad Rats, and the sheer level of irony imparted by the “Z” flashes red on all charts. The Steam store images do little to convey the action of the game, and the languid trailer is no favor either. These visual aids only serve to reveal the eponymous “Ratz,” which fall somewhere between the Butt-Ugly Martians and Doomguy’s fursona. With sculpted faces permanently affixed in freakish grins and a texture not unlike damp clay, the Ratz are perhaps the most aesthetically unappealing game protagonists since your Fallout 3 character. At a first glance, you’d be forgiven for thinking this was another slapped-together novelty game meant for giggles at ugly character models running and shooting and exploding in garish arenas. But, improbably, that isn’t the case.

Somehow, everything which might be a detriment to lesser Steam titles works in Ratz’ favor. Why? Because Ratz Instagib is an extremely stupid game which grasps its own stupidity, but doesn’t flaunt that idiocy as a selling point. Here, silly things exist as they should: small elements which flavor the game without overwhelming the taste. The title is insipid, but it’s also an extremely blunt descriptor of the game’s content. The Ratz themselves are heinous, but that only makes it more hilarious when they explode into pieces with faces still locked in a “kiss my ass” smile. The levels are garish and simple, but that’s because they favor function over form. Ultimately, none of this is meant as some primary “so bad it’s good” appeal of the game, unlike, say, the aforementioned Bubsy: The Woolies Strike Back.

You can tell this isn’t my gameplay because the usernames aren’t terrible.

With Bubsy’s most recent outing, it’s easy to absorb the scope of the game through gameplay videos and streams and other secondary methods of experience. The Woolies Strike Back’s “appeal” lies solely in cultural context and aesthetics (namely, the universe of Bubsy), but the gameplay is too simple and stale to inspire any manner of personal connection. Ratz Instagib is the opposite. It has no connection to any larger context, and its minor stylized aesthetics deliver the bare minimum for a modern FPS. That’s because much like Tetris, Pac-Man, or any other classic arcade game, Ratz Instagib is an experience which lives and dies on the physical and emotional experience of its gameplay.

Ratz doesn’t look nice because it doesn’t need to. Beneath whatever visuals it wears, the soul of Ratz Instagib is raw; almost primal. Although an easy mechanical reference would be the fast-paced deathmatch arenas of Quake, Ratz finds deeper territory. By stripping itself down to three inputs (shoot, jump, rocket jump), Ratz Instagib becomes elemental. It’s a pure distillation of what makes any online FPS worth playing: you jump, you shoot, and you compete for the most kills. No power-ups, no trick weapons, no strategy aside from desperately dodging and instinctual fight or flight. All Ratz are created equal, and born into a world in which they are simultaneously the least and most powerful; a breakneck playing field in which the king is also the prisoner. As such, Ratz Instagib taps directly into the most competitive corners of the human psyche.

Hallway, corner, and open space alike all become a breeding ground for instant annihilation and sheer absurdity alike. In one second, you’re weeping at the cruelty of a rat decked out in a clown nose and leather vest; the next you’re dealing out that same destruction with a laser you colored yellow because it looks like a piss beam. Were it not for the sheer thrill of the hunt, Ratz might be a hollow farce. Instead, the game itself works to fan the flames of competition, spawning players in bizarre locations and providing tight levels for every conceivable style of battle. This inherent unpredictability, both on official and community maps, makes it all the more rewarding when you finally score and blow “GhostReconChris” to pieces inside the protagonist’s bedroom from Persona 5.

This is a selling point on the Steam page, in case it sweetens the deal.

Perhaps that’s why the game is so disgustingly entertaining. Assuming you can find matches to play in, it’s easy to sink a few hours at a time into Ratz without blinking an eye. Every laser shot, every kill noise, every single gib is so utterly satisfying that it’s almost criminal. As with most games, the best way to experience Ratz Instagib is by playing with a dedicated group of friends. Not only does this ensure you’ll never run dry while looking for a match, but it also allows for the sort of chat and trash talk which provides an oh-so-welcome layer to the deceptively intense gameplay at hand. You might have ridiculed the Ratz at first, but you’ll be hollering once “Show Me That Russy” breaks your lead.

I’ve had more fun playing Ratz Instagib than maybe any other game in 2018. Sure, part of that is decking out my rat in giant sunglasses and playing on a rat disco map, but the majority comes from the sheer adrenaline rush provided by the one-hit kill gameplay. Good things come in unexpected packages, and finding such a visceral experience wrapped in ugly-ass Ratz is maybe the best surprise of the year. Despite whatever first impressions you might garner from the title’s Steam page, my adoration of Ratz is 100% genuine. If you’re looking for a riotously entertaining game to play on slow nights with some friends, you’d be hard pressed to find a better rodent exploder than Ratz Instagib.

It’s impossible to argue that every weirdo game on Steam is actually a hidden gem, but Ratz is certainly among them. I’d go so far as to argue the game is life-changing, but that depends on how funny you find anthropomorphic rats grabbing their crotches and launching fifty feet into the air after taking a laser to the groin. Like I said, it’s a idiotic game, but an incredible brand of idiocy that very few games manage to get right. Some aim for irony, and others bloat themselves down with jokes, but Ratz Instagib actually has the substance to back its stupidity. Beating your friends in fast-paced, adrenaline-pumping matches is the appeal; blasting ghoulish rats to smithereens is just an added bonus.

The post The Sublime Ecstasy of Ratz Instagib appeared first on Gamesline.

At some point, the fun stopped. Maybe when I was beating my head against Sonic Mania, or trudging through Thimbleweed Park (admittedly, both games for which I’m not the target audience), but something inside me eventually flipped. My internalized, self-imposed obligation to play as many games as possible turned on me, and my desire for new experiences withered away. I made it through Hellblade: Senua’s Sacrifice for game of the year, and then everything shut down. Like a car dealership gorilla taking collateral damage from a knife fight, the gaming portion of my brain leaked out and sputtered towards a slow, undignified collapse. I spent the transitory months between 2017 and 2018 running a miserable, addictive loop in Heroes of the Storm, unable to muster the energy for much else.

I didn’t get tired of this nearly as fast as I should have.

This fatigue is far from unheard of, especially amongst those involved with games coverage. In a news cycle which demands the hottest, most instant takes possible on all forms of media, it’s too easy for both media folk and players alike to burn rubber on jumping out ahead of spoilers, or to have their voices heard before anyone else. The immediacy of a platform such as Twitter, and the short relevancy of opinions in a system of continual creation and consumption provides a unique, capricious environment in which impressions can cease to be relevant mere days, or even hours after their establishment.

In this ouroboros of opinion, little space remains for legitimate digestion. By forcing ourselves to experience games at an accelerated pace simply for the purpose of playing them, genuine enjoyment soon gives way to prolonged constraint, and those titles which might provide legitimate satisfaction are waylaid for the sake of the broadest experience and the most relevant releases. Those who might not try a game otherwise are lured into an experience by the implicit demands of a social machine constantly in motion: play this game now, because it won’t matter in two months.

To a certain degree, this is the here-and-now ethos which dictates all media consumption. This is only exacerbated by the instantaneous nature of modern communication, in which all ideas are equally accessible and spread, virus-like, from person to person; screen to screen. Even regular players have the privilege of making their thoughts heard: play the newest game, beat it quick, have the sizzling Twitter take, and get ready to do it all over again within a month, or even a week. We exist in a sphere in which all thoughts can be made immediately, unbelievably public, and massive stock can be put into even the smallest idea. Whether consciously or not, our engagement and approval perpetuates this cycle of exhaustion, which is ultimately unavoidable in today’s digital landscape.

There’s nothing obliging you to play these games. I promise.

The question becomes, then, how to avoid this eventual release weariness in an industry which, by its very nature, exhausts those who attempt to stay current. While some might offer differing answers, the solution, in my mind, is simple. It doesn’t involve scheduling play times, or taking off work, or multitasking, or any other hyper-efficient solution to knock out a game prior to the release of the next big title. Some might find this answer unreasonable, or bold, or even impossible, but it couldn’t be simpler. When presented with a cycle so exhausting, so massive, and so immutable, there’s really only one answer: remove yourself from the cycle.

2018 presents a unique opportunity in comparison to 2017. This year, like every other, I have about twelve or so releases I look forward to across the calendar. The difference in 2018 is that about eleven of these games are ports, remasters, or remakes. Yume Nikki, Shadow of the Colossus, Captain Toad: Treasure Tracker, Dark Souls, SMT: Strange Journey Redux, and more; all of which have been out for years. There are precious few instances in which major releases consist of already existing games, but 2018 seems content to trot out no end of reissues. Combine with a release schedule that seems sparse thanks to 2017’s excess, and you get a chunk of months tailor-made for going back and picking up the titles of yesteryear.

The game which finally pulled me out of my early year funk was Dragon Quest Builders, which released on Switch this March. While I missed it on release in 2016, there’s a real serenity to playing a game such as Dragon Quest Builders at my own pace, free of the fear I might miss some arbitrary window, or not know what people are talking about when Game of the Year buzz kicks up. The real sense of accomplishment here comes from within, not without: I play this game for my own satisfaction, and not for engagement with a larger audience or external opinions. My thoughts, feelings, and enjoyment of Dragon Quest Builders are entirely my own, and this introspective thrill is something players of all walks should come to rediscover.

This game is very nearly saving my life.

That’s why, then, 2018 should be the year we all find the joy in playing catch-up. To find the titles which we’ve always meant to play, and to play them. To spend our time with the games we truly wish to experience, instead of the ones dictated for us by an industry which never takes a breath. While some might find this easier than others, there’s no shame in removing oneself from the release machine for a time. Instead of spending $60 on Monster Hunter World, a game which I potentially might not enjoy, I’ve resolved myself to play Bayonetta instead, an experience which I’ve waited years to dive into. It might seem like common sense, but for a world in which an obligation to the newest game is so ingrained, it’s easy to forget.

The titles of today will still be here tomorrow, but the ones of yesterday have waited long enough. For those who came away from 2017 exhausted, for those who have waited years to play a game, for those seeking introspective bliss…this one goes out to you. Make this the year you try the game you’ve always wanted to, to savor your experiences, or hell, to catch up on everything that came out in 2017. After such relentless releases, 2018 is giving us a rare opportunity to catch our breath – and we should be sure to catch it. In the words of Persona 5: take your time. I know I will.

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