The James Bond franchise is nothing if not a spectacle: Aside from the explosions and gunfights, even its calmer moments are dripping in the pomp and glamour of elite ostentation and luxury locales. Bond, however, has always been an odd mascot for the espionage profession, which ordinarily operates under silence and shadows. With 007 First Light, an origin story from Hitman developer IO Interactive, that spectacle rivals any of Bond’s cinematic adventures. Across 20 some hours with the game, those moments punctuated one of my favorite action games in years, one filled with exhilarating combat and an incredible variety of missions. 

The game starts with Bond, still merely a British soldier, called in with his squad to check in on unresponsive scientists operating in the frozen wilderness of Iceland. The squad is shot down and only Bond survives. The opening sequence is, unfortunately, extremely generic, but it does its job in setting up Bond’s future. Despite the improbable odds, he succeeds, but not without killing several bad guys and blowing things up. It’s this, combined with his refusal to leave people to their fate, that garners the attention of “M,” the new head of the reinstated “00” program of MI6 (the United Kingdom’s foreign intelligence service). Bond joins the recruitment program and starts training, under the guidance of the irascible Greenway, played by The Walking Dead’s Lennie James. To say more would spoil the otherwise enjoyable plot, but the story explores everything from double agents to the rise of AI and corporate control of humanity.

Don’t let his recruit status fool you: This is James Bond. He is charming, funny, an incredible fighter, highly intelligent, and surprisingly emotional and caring. No doubt much was drawn from Daniel Craig’s turn as the character, though there is no relation to the films. More importantly, playing as Bond feels incredible, as he is highly responsive, agile, and adaptive. In melee fights, he’ll not merely punch and kick when you press the “hit” button, he will also throw enemies headfirst into walls and windows if they are nearby; he will grab smashable objects to destroy on their heads; he will charge them. First Light is powered by the Glacier engine, the same tech behind the Hitman series, creating an ultrarealistic environment with breakable objects and interiors; papers fly, smoke lingers, objects spin and roll. Like Bond himself, the environment is incredibly responsive.

What really makes First Light work is the variety in missions. We go from tracking government workers in underground London nightclubs to a sprawling, multilevel Slovakian castle hosting a major chess match to uncover a double agent. And, in keeping with Bond tradition, each mission escalates, often in unexpected ways. At one point, Bond engages in a car chase that ends up chasing down and destroying a plane; another mission has you navigating a pirate den in a fictional Mauritanian city, having to raise $100,000 by participating in a range of illegal activities, from fistfights to gambling.  

I should note that the pirate den is where you meet Bawma, played by Lenny Kravitz. Oddly, he’s being touted by some places as the main antagonist, when he is not only not a villain, let alone the main villain, but also has a total screentime of about five minutes. It’s not a huge loss, though: Kravitz’s performance is terrible, and his American accent jarring.

Though it comes from the team that made Hitman, I very rarely had to wear disguises or deceive my way into places — a frequent occurrence in Hitman that would also make a lot of sense for an espionage game. Instead, Bond finds other methods, usually grates and sewers, to enter spaces. I used disguises twice in my entire playthrough. Stealth is still your primary method of approach, but there is no insta-fail state. Bond can make quick work of multiple enemies, but it felt “wrong” to me when I failed stealth. If, like me, you choose to load a checkpoint to keep your stealth streak, be prepared for strangely long loading times and very annoying checkpointing. I couldn’t tell if IO even wanted me to focus on stealth, given the checkpoints before long unskippable conversations or before extensive platforming sections.  

Before every mission, like in the films, Bond is kitted out by Q, the head of research at MI6 headquarters. Here, you can also speak to colleagues, hear conversations about your missions, and so on. It made MI6 not merely a faceless entity but alive with people you come to know. This becomes important for later developments I’d rather not spoil. You can take at most three devices into each mission, ranging from the laser watch to nausea darts. Every device is useful. Padlock on a door? Laser it. A guard is blocking a hallway? Shoot him with a nausea dart. Your choices directly impact how you’re able to approach situations in the field. During missions, you will encounter various “opportunities,” which make a return from Hitman. You may overhear a conversation about a reporter running late, then assume his identity to get into restricted areas; one time, I managed to fleece an ID card off a man all because I overheard his friend’s name.

First Light’s variety kept me on my toes, never once allowing me to guess where the game would go. The spectacle and set pieces rival even Uncharted, without ever once making me feel like I was merely a spectator. It’s not the Hitman-like game I initially expected given its developer; instead, it’s one of the best action games I’ve ever played, one that leans into the elements that have made Bond so enduring. And with the future of the film franchise up in the air, First Light is coming at exactly the right time and clearly in the right hands.

_{007 First Light launches on the PC, PS5, and Xbox on May 27th; a Switch 2 version is also in the works.}

It’s hard existing in a world seemingly designed for the undeservingly powerful and painfully boring few. They have been gifted what many of us only dream of: the ability to effectively do whatever they like, free from everyday concerns like money, housing, and health. But instead of living in quiet serenity, many choose to use their gifts to set the world aflame, then complain about the fire and our attempts to put it out. They wield their wealth loudly on our screens, spout old-timey racism on newly created social media, clog the arteries of creativity by dominating media, and don the robes of lawmakers to avoid the rule of law. They are incapable of being quiet, being unseen, being anything other than extravagant, excessive… in other words, “super.”

This narcissism is precisely what every superhero character demonstrates in Amazon Prime’s The Boys, which concluded this week with its series finale. While it succeeded in the final episode, the season as a whole felt unnecessarily long, with meandering plotlines and often little payoff. But, in the end, the satisfying conclusion brought the show back to its strengths.

Spoiler warning for all of The Boys, including the final episode.

The show started off very strong, adhering to Garth Ennis and Darick Robertson’s original comic. The titular group of ragtag ruffians has always had one goal: destroy superhero supremacy. Superheroes wear multiple hats — real-life celebrities, actual heroes helping people, Dionysian egotists indulging in every sick whim and sexual vice — and their powers seemingly prevent any human from intervening. This is where the Boys come in, each of whom has suffered loss by superheroes. Led by the boisterous Billy Butcher (Karl Urban doing his best-worst Cockney accent), we primarily follow the journey of Hughie Campbell (Jack Quaid), the world’s most unremarkable man, who is now in a battle against the remarkable.

What makes the show compelling is that these normal humans are fighting what are basically gods, so they must use their individual skills and collective ingenuity to defeat bulletproof, highly destructive people that move faster than lightning. (This central imbalance is not in the comics, where the Boys have permanent superpowers too.)

The show dealt quite directly with contemporary themes not in the source material. The Boys’ writers seemed to emulate South Park by taking a topic still fresh in the headlines and making it a point of contention. The final season, written before Donald Trump’s second term in office, features many events we are still seeing in US news stories, from the rise of the manosphere to locking up political opponents in prison camps to AI dominating creative fields. Some scenes from The Boys feel indistinguishable from what we see discussed and reported today. 

This season begins with Homelander (Antony Starr giving his all) having taken control of the entirety of the executive branch of the United States government. Some members of the Boys are imprisoned, while Starlight (Erin Moriarty) and her supporters have been doing what they can to dismantle Homelander’s control. All their efforts come up short. Homelander controls vast media and law enforcement apparatuses, while Starlight is fighting the most powerful enemy: belief.

Homelander’s supporters worship him and his MAGA-lite regime, lapping up nonsense about immigrants destroying the US and opponents being pedophiles. His lackeys and supporters use “woke” as an undefined pejorative. Starlight herself confronts this when she meets her stepbrother, who consumes only manosphere podcasts and Homelander-controlled news networks. To the show’s credit, it has always been excellent at showcasing how propaganda is created and perpetuated.  

But the entire season feels like it should’ve been a few episodes or one long movie, as opposed to eight episodes. This is because there is little upward mobility for Homelander’s evil. Yes, he takes control of the US administration, but having already taken control of Vought — the most powerful corporation that effectively created supes — there is little difference in what he is now able to achieve. The show itself likes to blur the lines between corporation and government, without stating with its full chest that the US has always been a corporatocracy.

But the show dragged itself to the finale. One episode grinds the season to a full stop to show us a dog’s perspective of humping a Homelander toy and petty grievances between two rival superhero podcasting bros. There are some notable deaths, but these characters’ presence has little impact on the overarching plot in this season.

The Boys’ writers tried to focus on the idea of Homelander becoming immortal through taking a drug utilized by his father (Soldier Boy, played by Jensen Ackles), while our “good guys” tried to create a virus that would wipe out all superheroes. Both of these fail: Homelander’s immortality does not enhance his powers or evil, and the virus becomes merely a focus for arguments between the team. Despite the amount of time and energy spent on these threads, none of this plays into the finale or helps end Homelander.

Instead, it comes down to Kimiko (Karen Fukuhara), a character we’ve known from the beginning, who is able to withstand punishing radiation treatment, granting her the ability to remove superheroes’ powers. All the Boys needed to do in the end was get her in the same room as Homelander. All the hemming and hawing over immortality and viruses was a waste of time.

Where the season did succeed was in showcasing Homelander. Throughout the show’s run, we have watched Homelander’s mental decline alongside his rise in power. Homelander is one of TV’s greatest villains precisely because he is so pathetic and yet so powerful; the show hints that it’s this disconnect that has him scrambling for “more,” yearning for adoration. But because he suffers a poverty of personality, his hunger for wholeness ends up consuming everything — including the world. It’s refreshing seeing characters confront Homelander and point out that, without his powers, he’s nothing more than an entitled, whiny child.

This is, I think, the show’s best lesson: Almost no one in a position of government or corporate power got there through moral means. Thinking on the many powerful men in the real world, I realized that they’re the same as Homelander. They cannot live lives of quiet serenity because they cannot escape themselves, their endless hunger, and their narcissism. And because they cannot escape, neither can we.

Homelander may have laser eyes and flight, but when he’s finally stripped of these in the finale, he can’t even throw a punch at Butcher. Homelander has never had to learn fighting techniques because his powers made him immortal. Butcher, a trained soldier, easily overpowers him.

When Homelander was finally beaten and easily killed, stripped of his powers, I felt elated. It was cathartic to watch him reduced to this whiny, mewling sack of nothing — this was especially true knowing the same thing would happen in the real world. The finale certainly seemed to have annoyed Elon.

The meandering final season doesn’t negate what The Boys as a whole accomplished. This gory, bloody mess has heart, and it’s justifiably angry and ready to beat you over the head with its messaging.

Resident Evil has always been a strange creature: Like many of its most notable monsters, it has shifted and evolved into various forms. From its blocky days of tank-controlled Z-list actors to first-person fright fests, the franchise’s identity is not so much tied to genre as theme: zombies, viruses, very ugly monsters. Now, with Requiem, we have its first proper chimera, mixing the first-person horror of the latest installments with the fan-favorite action of Resident Evil 4.

Along with this are two playable characters that embody these two very different styles, with beloved Leon S. Kennedy returning as a middle-aged action hero alongside newcomer Grace Ashcroft. The pair come together for a Resident Evil that seamlessly shifts between tone and view to create yet another terrifying evolution for the franchise.

Requiem sees Grace, an FBI analyst, investigating a series of strange murders. All the victims are survivors of the 1998 Raccoon City Incident, the inciting event that’s central to much of Resident Evil’s history. Grace’s section begins in 2026 in a burnt-down hotel encased in a rainy urban environment, which reminded me of the cold, wet horror of David Fincher’s Seven. She navigates the dark hotel, armed only with a flashlight, before realizing she is not, in fact, alone. She soon finds herself in the hands of the main villain, Dr. Victor Gideon.

The game lets you swap between first- and third-person views, but also recommends a particular view for each character. Much like the two previous entries, Biohazard and Village, Grace’s section is designed with a first-person viewpoint in mind. With her limited ammo and inventory space, low health, and tiny frame, Grace is this game’s unprepared horror protagonist, surrounded by enemies who can often kill her in one or two hits. Grace has to prioritize hiding, using one-off but powerful weapons and gadgets, and fleeing. Playing this in first-person helps articulate her vulnerability.

Soon I was controlling Leon (who looks much worse for wear since his last appearance in Resident Evil 6, a game everyone, including me, pretends does not exist). Leon arrives near the hotel after Grace, and he’s soon killing zombies in the middle of a public street, giving chase to Gideon. It is rather unnerving watching Dr. Gideon shoot needles into innocent passersby as he escapes, quickly creating zombies. Leon’s sections are much like Resident Evil 4: third-person action, with melee prompts and a new ax weapon. Despite being in his 50s, Leon remains an efficient killing machine: As with his abilities in Resident Evil 4, Leon has melee and instant kills, with incredible animations and satisfying gore gushing from successful takedowns. There has never been this much gore caused by a Resident Evil protagonist; it’s glorious to watch him paint rooms red.

It’s remarkable how seamlessly the game shifts between perspectives. If you have ever watched videos showing what first-person games look like from a third-person perspective, you will know things are… different. For example, when Grace opens a creepy cupboard, the game wants to show you a disgusting mass with ooze. The animation for her arms, the angle you view it from, and more will differ if you’re watching it from a first or third-person perspective. Incredibly, Requiem has achieved this fidelity for both angles at any time. It’s truly masterful work by Capcom. 

There is no optional character switching, however. You will simply find yourself playing Grace or Leon based on where you are in the story. For example, after playing as Grace for an hour, navigating very creepy hallways and avoiding a large monstrosity known only as the girl, she ends up being saved by Leon. The game then cuts back to show how Leon got the point of saving her. Later, when Grace is separated from Leon, you take over as Leon and give her covering fire from a sniper’s nest.

You cannot predict when you will play as either character, but most of the first half of the game is in the shoes of Grace, with Leon’s sections notably shorter; by the time I crossed the halfway mark, the game put Grace on the back burner for a very long time.  

The mashup works surprisingly well, as it feels like the style of play reflects the characters and their particular story. Leon just could never be afraid, underprepared, or ill-suited to the horror around him by this stage in his story. Even with his bare hands, he is a formidable fighter, and remains the lovable weirdo from Resident Evil 4. His sections are refined, tight combat sequences; at one point you can even block a rocket with an ax.

Grace is another story. Despite being an FBI analyst, she looks like a very small teenager. While I appreciate that her being unprepared adds to the horror, nothing portrayed her as a criminal analyst or FBI agent. Indeed, her being a lonely college student would have made more sense, as nothing in any part of the story demonstrated any abilities. Her backstory, which I won’t spoil here, is also underwhelming, and discovering why she is so important to the all-powerful villains left me rolling my eyes. While she felt good to play and embodied vulnerability, her constant sniveling and delivering lines with a whimper became very jarring. Thankfully she shows some growth toward the end of the game.

The environments and scenarios are also wonderfully varied, throwing you from a creepy hospital-like area to the bombed-out remains of Raccoon City Police Department — also known as Leon’s origin story. It was quite emotional returning, as the original Resident Evil 2 was the first big-budget game I got in the 2000s. Leon and I were somewhat aligned in taking a breath before opening those doors. I chuckled as 50-year-old Leon commented on puzzles and items he dealt with nearly 30 years ago, which returning players will appreciate. 

The series’ enemies have also continued to evolve beyond just the shambling undead. My favorites were the new partially sentient zombies who retain some semblance of humanity — a cook keeps chopping decaying meat in the kitchen, a cleaner keeps rubbing a stained mirror and bashing her face, a hotel guest nursing a hangover keeps turning a light on and off. Grace can use these tics to her advantage when trying to escape them; for example, with the light-switcher zombie, you can turn on a light farther down a corridor to get him to move. 

Leon and Grace’s journey centers around what they believe is tracking down the last strain of the zombie virus that upended the world. I can safely say that the ending I got was one of the most satisfying conclusions to any Resident Evil game — and Requiem is a fitting name. This newest installment brings together two of the franchise’s heavy hitters — Resident Evil 4 and the first-person horror of Biohazard and Village — and at just under 11 hours, it doesn’t overstay its welcome, either.

Over the years, Resident Evil has shown that it can be many different types of horror — and Requiem proves that the series can pull it all off in one single experience.

_{Resident Evil Requiem launches on February 27th on the PS5, Xbox, Switch 2, and PC.}

Colonialism is not merely about occupying nations. It’s a project of mass violence, part of which involves total erasure and the widespread theft of some of the most culturally significant artifacts in the world. Even today, colonizing nations proudly display stolen artifacts, acting as peacocking robbers under the guise of tourism. See, for example, the British Museum’s continual hold of the Egyptian Rosetta Stone, the so-called Benin Bronzes, and the Ethiopian Maqdala collection. Colonized nations have sought to reclaim their stolen culture.

But what happens when kind requests and diplomatic maneuvers are not only insufficient but undeserving of the ongoing crime? This is where the fantasy of the moral heist comes in — and no game has done it better than Relooted. 

Developed by South African studio Nyamakop, Relooted focuses on a group of lovable, albeit unprofessional, Johannesburg-based thieves from different African countries. They have a singular goal: Reclaim from colonizer nations what was stolen from Africa. Playing as the frontwoman Nomali, a world-class parkour athlete, you help start this ragtag group inspired by her grandmother, a history professor. The game is an Africanfuturist (as opposed to Afrofuturist) 2.5D heist-’em-up platformer,  sending Nomali and her team around the Global North, infiltrating museums, private collections, and banks to take back legendary but stolen artifacts. 

Once acquired, the team anonymously seeks to deposit them in the the Museum of Black Civilisations in Senegal. What I found surprising was that the museum, like every artifact, is in fact entirely real.

In mission briefings in your Batcave-like base, you get a genuine short history lesson on the artifact and, through it, Africa’s colonized past. For example, did you know the modern Republic of Benin, a West African nation, and the historical and powerful Kingdom of Benin (which reached its peak in the 15th century), located in what is now Nigeria, are different? Legendary masks of this kingdom were looted by colonizers and not returned, held by, among others, the British Museum.

In the fictional world of Relooted, this is precisely where Nomali and her crew come in. If the nations that profited off theft and stolen labor won’t return the artifacts, then Nomali and co. will simply take them back. They’re benevolent thieves; the team doesn’t make a profit and only will only steal what was previously stolen. As a lawyer, I have qualms, since in most legal systems theft of even your own property is still theft — you cannot break into your robber’s home to reclaim your phone, for example. But as someone whose ancestors were colonized by the British in India before moving to a British-occupied South Africa, this was deeply fulfilling and morally wholesome. 

Every mission sees you scouting the level for robot guards, exits, and additional artifacts. You discuss this with your team, each of whom provides a different skill that is itself a mechanic in the game: Your brother is a locksmith who can break into doors or safes, while another team member is a professional acrobat who can use Batman-like skills to reach impossible areas. After scouting, Nomali is then tasked with retrieval of the artifact(s). 

However, you must also make sure of your exit. This is the most exciting part for me, as it requires you to plan your escape route before setting off the alarm. After Nomali snags the object, you must then follow a perfect route out without getting caught by chasing drones. You can also plan to steal a few artifacts, meaning you need to be clever about which item to steal first; it could be that the item closest to the entrance is in fact not the best first option, as it is awkwardly placed. Careful planning and running through the route, placing your teammates in the right areas, all leads to a clockwork-like heist that would make Arsène Lupin proud. 

The game is a cerebral platformer, a satisfying mixture of brains and twitch responses. You feel the exhilaration of a fast chase, as well as the satisfaction of a well-considered exit plan with the coordinated efforts of your teammates, when executed properly and all artifacts are in tow.

The stages are varied, sometimes not using the names as we know them now. For instance, the US is known as “the Shiny Place,” depicted as a mixture of Las Vegas and New York, with more cyberpunk aesthetics. Another is a European mansion, home of a “collector,” depicted in dark, rain-drenched cobblestone streets and with creepy paintings haunting cold brick walls. Stages usually last between five to 10 minutes, unless you repeat them due to a faulty plan or execution. 

Repetition does set in, despite a wider story eventually unfolding. There’s only so much variety when dealing with 2D stages and limited mechanics, but the game does not wear out its welcome. The graphics are quite dated; though it is attempting to look like a Pixar film or other modern animation productions, character faces are flat and dialogue animations look stiff and basic.

However, parkour animations are fluid, and the colors and world are vibrant. Nomali felt great to control, especially when you get into a “flow” of parkour movement. This is heightened by an incredible soundtrack from composers Nick Horsten and Dustin van Wyk, which is able to both soothe as ambience and pump up for the action set pieces. Using a mixture of electronic and traditional instruments, the soundscapes capture the Africanfuturistic theme as well as the ’80s James Bond espionage aesthetics for our sneaky thieves. 

Relooted is very special to me as a South African. Not only is it made by South Africans, but it centres on a pan-African group, working together for a common goal of reclaiming what was stolen by colonial occupiers. Ugandan scholar Yusuf Serunkuma cites one calculation that puts the loss Africa experienced through colonization between 1960–2010 at an estimated $152 trillion. To think of where my country and continent would be today were it not for the enormous theft and exploitation makes me continually angry. Even today, African citizens still have to visit former colonizer nations to view their own history.

Relooted serves as a fine and righteous outlet for the moral rage at the unfairness and unjust occupation and horror experienced by this continent, and fulfills double roles as a history lesson and fun heist platformer. Here’s hoping more people discover just how bloody and unfair African history really was — and how wonderful, beautiful, and inspiring our continent and its people remain.

_{Relooted is available now on the Xbox and PC.}

We are saturated with superhero media to the point where even self-criticism has been done to death with franchises like Watchmen and The Boys. But with its debut choice-driven narrative adventure, AdHoc Studio has managed to find a unique angle for the superhero genre.

In Dispatch, the story focuses on an office-based lackey and corporate manager of said superheroes, rather than the heroes themselves. This is a beautifully animated, episodic choice-driven narrative adventure, very much drawing from the team’s history at Telltale Games. So far, only two of eight episodes have been released, with two more launching every week through November 12th. However, be prepared for very little interaction in this interactive experience.

As the unfortunately named Robert Robertson III (played brilliantly by Aaron Paul), a down-on-his-luck hero without powers, you are a dispatcher for a superhero security company. Instead of cops or security guards, clients call the Superhero Dispatch Network (SDN) to assist in all manner of issues, from cats in trees to jewelry heists. Robert manages his own team of reformed supervillains, and it’s up to you to decide which of the misfits to send, based on their personal history and powers. Do you send the crypto-bro manbat to escort a celebrity, or the charismatic popstar with magic light powers? Do you send the stealthy ex-assassin or the girl who can turn invisible to infiltrate a robbery?

These are the quick choices you make when Robert sits for his first day on the job, after about an hourlong intro. Robert’s choices affect the outcome of the particular emergency, which, if successful, leads to heroes leveling up various attributes. These attributes — like combat and charisma — determine the outcome of a scenario. For example, you wouldn’t send the inarticulate fire superhero to an event that requires a good speaker. The scenarios pop up on his ’90s-era computer screen, much like short emergencies in a SimCity game. You never actually see any animation taking place during these scenarios, given Robert is deskbound and communicating solely via voice. However, having access to just the first two episodes has meant I’ve only dispatched twice, taking up about five to 10 minutes each time.

Outside of dispatch missions, most of the game involves dialogue and action choices, and quick-time events (though these can be turned off). Anyone who played Telltale’s iconic The Walking Dead will know the mechanics. However, this is one of the most restrictive narrative adventures I’ve played. You don’t even get to control Robert’s movements in terms of walking and talking. This is less a Monkey Island adventure and more Black Mirror’s Bandersnatch. This does seem to allow for consistently stunning and handcrafted animation, however, of a quality to match high-quality adult animated shows like Invincible and Arcane. Add to this a stellar cast — including the aforementioned Paul, there’s Laura Bailey, Jeffrey Wright, Travis Willingham, and others — and it really does feel like a high-budget show.

The downside is the limited consequences — at least early on. I played the two episodes a few times, given how brief each one is (the first episode took about 30 minutes), and made different choices to see just how different the outcomes would be. Barring a decision in a bar fight that either did or did not lead to a recurring character’s front tooth getting knocked out, very little of the game’s story changed. To be fair, I have no idea how late into the complete season the consequences will manifest. Several times a pop-up of “X will remember that” appeared, but only a few times did I see the outcome of that.

Related to these limitations are “combat” sequences — despite being quick-time events, the one I experienced had no differing outcome if you just left the buttons alone. You can turn quick-time events off, but even with them on, the outcome doesn’t change. I don’t know what point these quick-time events serve, whether on or off, which speaks to how on-rails and restrictive the game is.

The story begins with Robert, known as MechaMan, who pilots a giant suit of robot armor, tracking down his dad’s killer. His father, who was MechaMan before him, was murdered by a supervillain named Shroud. In an ensuing fight, the suit is destroyed and Robert is left with nothing. He is soon recruited by an actual superpowered superhero, Blonde Blazer, the most generic “hot blonde” hero you could imagine.

By contrast, the main character Robert is not at all generic: neither a grump nor entitled windbag. He’s determined, articulate, and thoughtful. He’s given the worst team to manage but takes it as a challenge rather than a slight. While you get to make choices, Robert’s character is very much set.

The game’s strength lies in its writing and characters. Without the restrictions of working with licensed characters, the developers are wonderfully creative with their heroes. I thoroughly enjoyed the brief interactions between and with the weirdos in spandex you are given. As a non-powered hero, Robert navigates them with both tension and annoyance but not fear. I am looking forward to seeing how relationships develop and with whom Robert bonds.

But for now I’m only cautiously optimistic about where Dispatch is going. Through the first two episodes — which barely take up two hours, and feature on-rails outcomes, limited interaction, and little idea of the actual plot — I am uncertain. I fell in love with the animation, the voice work, and the characters, but those are elements you can experience as a let’s play on YouTube. Now the game needs to show me why I should play rather than watch.

_{The first two episodes of Dispatch are available now on the PS5 and Steam.}

Metal Gear Solid Delta: Snake Eater seemed to be designed specifically for me, at first. I’ve played and loved nearly every entry of the Metal Gear Solid series, and the original MGS is one of my favorite games of all time. These weird, third-person stealth action games feature bizarre characters and scenarios that have lingered in my memories through a consistent mixture of intricate political espionage and ridiculous action sequences. The only entry that I never managed to play was Metal Gear Solid 3: Snake Eater. 

Delta is a modern remake of MGS3 that uses the same levels, cutscenes, voice lines, and performances, making it ideal for those who adored the earlier entries. Sadly, after hours of play, Delta often left me frustrated. You play as a more novice version of one of the series’ protagonists, Naked Snake, who is completely unequipped to deal with the scenarios before him. This makes sense from a story perspective, but it left me feeling as though I was playing with one hand tied behind my back. I also did not have the benefit of nostalgia to see me through this fog of annoyance. 

Despite its incredible visuals, this is not an overhaul to the extent of recent remakes like Resident Evil 4 or Silent Hill 2. This is an almost shot-for-shot remake of the original Snake Eater (to not complicate matters, we won’t discuss the many different versions of Snake Eater and which is the definitive version). This means that you’ll experience it with warts and all.

You can miss equipment at crucial stages and melee combat works when the game decides (I can hit flying creatures with a torch but I can’t stab a snake with a knife). Healing makes as much sense as reading tea leaves. I could not tell you how or why Snake manages to heal, despite there being an entire mechanic cleverly dedicated to counter broken bones, bullet wounds, and so on. Snake can use a lit cigar to rid himself of leeches or bandages to stop bleeding, but these do not improve health bars so much as stop them from degrading. I don’t know what raises his health bars.

The game’s structure is part of why it feels dated. The levels are broken up by frequent loading screens that show how small they really are, making me feel like I was moving from one tiny fake set to another, rather than navigating a dense jungle. To be fair, that is how the original game works and, as noted, this is not a bottom-up remake. Nevertheless, these small levels feel at odds with the modern visuals.

I have no problem learning a game’s systems through trial and error, especially when loading is lightning fast (the PS5’s SSD has no doubt saved many a potential broken controller). But I felt constantly unprepared in Delta. The early hours saw me frequently reloading a level due to a sudden introduction of landmines, a distinct inability to see or detect enemies, and uninspired boss fights. These all threw me off and made me roll my eyes when I had to come back. The game and I were just not clicking. The versions of Snake I saw in cutscenes felt like a different character in my useless hands during gameplay.

To be clear, Snake feels incredible to control, akin to the Snake in 2015’s Metal Gear Solid V: Phantom Pain, the most recent entry in the series. He responds immediately to controls, directional movements are twitch perfect, and shooting and fighting felt, well, solid. It was also lovely to hear Snake’s English voice being performed by series original David Hayter, whose over-the-top action hero growling once again works perfectly. His performance straddles the line between the ridiculousness of B-grade action flicks and the slick, big-budget productions of a John Wick film. 

Snake does eventually start growing his large arsenal of gadgets and weapons, and learning when and how to use these various gadgets does prove to be part of the joy of the game. But I never felt like I truly understood how and when to use the various gear, which ranges from a weird sonar detector to a crocodile helmet.

For example, moving through a base near water means you could don a crocodile helmet pretending to be said animal, until you find a ledge, climb on top, and quietly deal with various guards. However, despite wearing the helmet, I was immediately spotted in one instance, bringing a whole level of enemies on top of me. Another area required me to sneak into a base, but it was surrounded by an electric fence and landmines, which proved impossible to spot because I had missed out on a landmine detector earlier in the game.

Until I obtained thermal goggles, spotting enemies was a nightmare. I found some success by using the game’s remarkable camouflage system (which allows Snake to wear different outfits and body paint to blend into the immediate environment) that renders him almost invisible to enemies. This meant, if I stumbled on an enemy, I had a higher chance of not being immediately spotted.

The game calls for slow, methodic movement in terrain that can prove hostile, with aforementioned mines, poisonous animals, guard dogs, and so on all trying to find ways to kill you. The game felt more like a collection of puzzles than fully realized environments like in past games, and this structure just never clicked with me.

The story did, however. It is a delightfully convoluted mess that anyone who has played a Metal Gear game will expect. Snake has been sent to a remote jungle location during the Cold War to stop a Very Big Machine from nuking the world. High-ranking government officials from Russia and the US are vying for power but prove vulnerable to some powerful military offshoot who is trying to take control. There’s backstabbing, twists, and the usual reflection on war, technology, conquest, and the horror of power. Series creator — and the original Snake Eater’s director and writer — Hideo Kojima has been obsessed with these themes for decades. It was actually touching to see his name in the credits and displayed prominently, despite his infamous fallout with Konami.

Without the benefit of nostalgia, my perspective — that is, someone who is experienced with all the other Metal Gear games but has not touched this one — puts me in a weird space. The gorgeous visuals and eccentric story make it appear like a perfect fit for me. But Delta left me feeling frustrated in its (deliberately designed) helplessness and old-school structure. It left me wanting to be anywhere else rather than in the jungles with that beloved weirdo Snake.

_{Metal Gear Sold Delta: Snake Eater launches on August 28th on the PC, PS5, and Xbox.}

With FBC: Firebreak, Remedy Entertainment has entered the world of the first-person co-op shooter. Set in its Control universe — specifically the site of the first game, the brutalist nightmare office called the Oldest House — players control a member of the titular three-person team of the Federal Bureau of Control (FBC), tasked with addressing various containment breaches. Unfortunately, all the aspects that make Remedy’s worlds so intriguing are completely absent in this bare-bones co-op shooter, which offers nothing for either longtime fans or those invested in existing shooters.  

Players in Firebreak are like firefighters or disaster responders, with each member occupying a different role: mechanic, water carrier, electrician. Across five recurring levels, teams must work to stop the spread of corruption, called the Hiss (a mysterious red entity that turns people into raging zombies and other types of creatures). Objectives vary from destroying Post-it notes to fixing fans, all while being assailed by swarms of various nightmare monsters.

Control, the central foundation of Remedy’s wider connected universe that also includes Alan Wake, is at its core weird. It’s how Remedy developers have described it — to me and others — allowing for fluctuations between the terrifying, the quirky, the odd, and the hilarious. The Bureau itself is a government agency tasked with containing bizarre items and reacting to huge and strange world events: for example, a traffic light that, when it flashes red, sends people to different locations, or a fridge that eats people if you stop looking at it.

In Remedy’s universe, FBC workers document, monitor, and research these sorts of items with the gray-faced enthusiasm of every bored researcher. The number of times the toy duck teleports needs to be logged as much as how many coffee filters need to be replaced in the break room.

That stone-faced reaction to the weird is only mildly present in Firebreak, with brief interactions with mission provider Hank Wilder, the security chief, detailing bizarre tasks in a slight monotone. Even player character barks demonstrate this. One of the player voice options is called “Pencil Pusher,” who, when receiving friendly fire, screams that such actions “violate office policy.” Health restoration involves characters huddling in a shower together; you can fix equipment by hitting it with a wrench.

As someone obsessed with Control, I was eagerly anticipating a return — particularly in the shoes of ordinary personnel, rather than the almost godlike head of the agency, Jesse Faden (who you play in Control). But that sense of unease that plays off the quirkiness is not here. The Oldest House and its enemies feel like little more than an aesthetic, or even a kind of mod, for a generic co-op shooter. There is no sense of progression, no overarching goal to which you are working. Levels and tasks repeat. There aren’t even creepy big-level bosses, like the terrors in Control, except in one area. 

You will have seen all the game has to offer within a few hours, since each level has only three or four stages (with each successive stage in the same level taking you further in), and some stages can be completed within three to four minutes. As an example, one stage involves destroying replicating Post-it notes. Once you have destroyed a sufficient number, you rush back to the elevator as a horde descends. The second stage requires the same objective, only this time you gain access to a second area to destroy more notes. The third stage repeats this, only you go further in and face a boss. All end with rushing back. 

While the game offers modifiers — such as harder enemies and corrupting anomalies that can slightly keep you on your toes — the core aspect wears out quickly. I do not feel I am making any headway in clearing out an entire level, since once cleared, there’s no indicator our team made any difference. The only incentive is to obtain better gear. At least the game doesn’t push microtransactions and is quite generous in its rewards, especially on harder difficulties. 

You also level up various roles independently: playing mainly as the mechanic, you will have to start from scratch if you switch to, for example, the electrician role. These roles do feel distinct, as you are given different gear and abilities. The mechanic can almost instantly repair broken equipment, a very useful skill given how many broken machines there are. But the game is filled with various hazards, such as fire and gunk, which the water soaker character — with their water cannon — can negate. 

Shooting feels good, but guns are standard: shotguns, machine guns, pistols. Don’t expect weird weapons like the Service Weapon from Control. This is meat-and-potatoes destruction.

That’s precisely what disappointed me: ordinary workers in a world where fridges eat people is what made me love Control, and the idea of being able to play one of the lowly workers was exciting. Yet that charm is largely absent. I barely felt part of the FBC and it didn’t seem like I was containing anything.

In Control, you would clear rooms and see the game world change permanently. Obviously a co-op shooter can’t do things in the exact same way. But why not tie something like this to the host player? If I have to see the same level three times, progressing further each level, why not show some permanent change from a previous run? There’s no indication the world is reacting to the Firebreak team’s efforts.

In reality, Firebreak feels like one of the multiplayer modes that used to be tacked on to big-budget single-player games (think Mass Effect 3, for example). If players don’t feel like they’re making a difference as part of a team trying to stop an outbreak, why should we bother? The levels are akin to hero-shooter arenas, devoid of the deep lore of a Remedy game. At least with hero shooters, playing against other people keeps play constantly fresh. This felt like it was stale within a few hours, an avocado of a game.

I genuinely don’t know who Firebreak is for. Longtime fans of Control won’t find collectibles, environmental storytelling, or anything to even read. And those looking for meaningful multiplayer shooters have plenty of options already. This is a strange dim light for a studio that usually produces brilliance.

_{FBC: Firebreak is available now on the PC, PS5, and Xbox Series X / S. It’s also available for Game Pass and PlayStation Plus subscribers.}

After a year, Finnish studio Remedy Entertainment has opened the gates to a mysterious location in the 2023 third-person horror hit Alan Wake 2, known as The Lake House. In this short DLC, released just in time for Halloween, players step into the shoes of Kiran Estevez, the long-suffering agent of the mysterious Federal Bureau of Control we meet in the main game, who allies with Alan Wake 2’s protagonists, Alan Wake and Saga Anderson. Set before the events of Alan Wake 2, The Lake House sees Kiran recounting a horrifying event at the titular location to Saga, yet the plot is almost firmly removed from the main game itself.

This is both a boon and a curse, depending on what you were looking for. But as a bridge to the continuation of Remedy’s grand connected universe narrative — which also includes the supernatural thriller Control — it’s ideal. Instead of waving goodbye to Alan and Saga, Remedy is extending a hand to take us on its next weird journey.

Kiran is investigating a research station, where FBC researchers, doctors Jules and Diana Marmont and their teams, are looking into the effects of Cauldron Lake. In Remedy’s lore, there is a connection between the power of creating “art” and the power of otherworldly forces to misuse such gifts.

The Marmonts are experimenting on a painter, Rudolf Lane, who some might remember from the main game. Lane’s creativity has a tendency to illustrate — and possibly create — the future, much as Alan’s writing did. (God forbid those two ever make a comic book together.) I won’t spoil what the Marmonts did, save to say they were monsters long before any otherworldly forces came into the frame. Regardless, the Lake House is suddenly cut off and unresponsive to FBC HQ, resulting in Kiran investigating with a small team. 

Remedy has been playing with a connected universe since Control, and the Lake House is a firm bridge backward and forward to that story. Of course, being an Alan Wake DLC, players can expect the solid third-person survival horror of the main game. 

The Lake House, as a setting, is as unnerving as most of the spaces in Alan Wake 2. However, there’s more of a focus on the brutalist and office-space aesthetics from Control, without the outside or natural environments that dominated about half of the main game. In the eerily quiet office spaces, there are visual wonders like looping hallways and rooms of infinite typewriters, which have been programmed to “write” like Alan Wake. 

That last quirk appears to be a clear jab by Remedy’s writers at AI slop, with a page of Alan’s real writing saying, “The art was not art. Just content for the experiment.” Indeed, the whole thesis of The Lake House is the misuse of art for the acquisition of some end product, rather than relishing in the beauty art can create. This is all the more obvious when you figure out who the villain is and who has created the new terrifying humanoid paint beasts that slither out of the walls. Remedy is not subtle in its disdain for the corporatization of creativity, the reconfiguration of art into a harvest field of bland capitalistic fervor. There’s no love lost and much hate gained in the Lake House’s story, outlining the interaction between artistic freedom and corporate control: a golden hand wrapped around imagination’s throat.

To say too much about this already short game would spoil it, so I won’t go into detail about the clever set pieces that would feel right at home in Control. Let’s just say, light switches and motels make a welcome return, as does a familiar and powerful character. 

Kiran, unfortunately, does not mechanically demonstrate any prowess fighting otherworldly beings, despite her years as an FBC agent. She plays no different to Saga or Alan Wake, once again using a flashlight to whittle down enemies’ shadowy armor before unloading a satisfying number of bullets into their bodies. There is also only one new enemy type: the aforementioned long-limbed painting creatures who can only be destroyed with a new weapon Kiran discovers late in the story. 

I would’ve liked some new ability or mechanic that demonstrates her years of experience in dealing with the weird. Instead, this is relegated to her interactions with the odd object / entity, being able to quickly control her fear, and knowing how to deal with recurring “items” Control veterans like myself know all too well. 

Much of the joy of the Lake House is discovering what occurred and experiencing the few floors for yourself. The DLC takes about two hours to complete. But in that short span of time, it made for not only a satisfying send-off of one of my favorite recent games but also a bridge back into the world of Control.

All signs seem to indicate Remedy will be taking the grand plot of this connected universe to an almost apocalyptic level. We can probably expect to see plenty of returning characters, including Kiran herself, as Remedy steers us through its creepy weird lake of stories.

The Lake House expansion for Alan Wake 2 is available now.