One More Go

In an abandoned church a voice asks you to search through the archives of an old machine for something hidden. Something dangerous.

Within, you’ll find books, manifestos, scientific papers, and all manner of documents to puzzle over. Each providing some clue about the world. Then, there are the annotations. Prior operators have left their own thoughts attached to each entry, and you’re soon jumping between documents and decoding locked messages to follow conversations between them. All the while, an ongoing conversation between you, the operator, and a voice over the radio adds to the urgency with which this must be solved.

It’s a lot to hold in your head. In-game notebooks helpfully tag unresolved links or documents, and even keeps track of the characters mentioned throughout the archive. Even so, it’s still possible to get lost. I was not above brute forcing some codes I thought might exist to help wrestle back some momentum

TR-49 is anything but straightforward, then. But, interpreting its layers and their connections is quite the thrill, as is operating the machine itself. Played in handheld mode the machine comes to life. A brilliantly tactile experience as you input coordinates using the machines radial menus and levers. The screen gliding between documents, hinting at the vastness within.

As you would expect from Inkle, the storytelling is confident and beautifully written across all the three layers of its narrative. Plenty is answered, eventually, but some open questions will echo after the final credits, rewarding those curious enough with a few different endings to discover.

From the creators of Persona, Metaphor excels everywhere you would expect it to – Most of which is visible at a glance. It is absolutely dripping in style, the core cast of characters themed around 1960s fashion, the bipedal gauntlet runners with Evangelion heritage, and menus that are absolutely packed with art. It leaves one hell of a first impression.

Metaphor takes place in a fantasy world, the King has just been murdered and an ancient magic dictates that an election will determine who rules next. A grand tournament is arranged for candidates to gain followers, and much of Metaphor’s runtime is spent travelling to all corners of the world to understand its cultures and their needs. It’s a fun premise that delivers plenty of twists and turns as well as slick anime cutscenes. There’s plenty of darkness and cruelty too, but even so, set against the current political hellscape the earnest ideals of our motley crew seem a little twee. An issue that is probably better levelled at my cynicism more than Metpahor’s optimism.

The switch from a modern setting to a fantasy world seems like a sensible way to tell this story, allowing for interesting tensions between the world’s many cultures and religions. Though, what I liked most were their UK regional accents, especially the Mustari – three eyed people who pray to a legendary dragon, often exclaiming “Un-stinking-believable” in thick Welsh accents as you speed past them.

While the dressing has changed, the skeleton of Persona has been efficiently recycled, dovetailing nicely with the fantasy election. Social bonds between characters, activities that raise stats, and the constraints of an in-game calendar are all present, as is the monthly deadline for solving the current crisis – usually a large dungeon to clear in service of the next tournament milestone.

Combat retains its turn based structure, though there is a shift away from the usual monster collecting and fusing to a new archetype system. Characters can be assigned any archetype (mage, gunner, thief, etc.), each with strengths and weaknesses against varying classes of magic and physical attacks. Striking a weakness will gain the party an extra action, while bouncing off a resistance or missing an attack will rob them of one. Crushing an enemy force without giving them a chance to act is the gold standard, but doing so is a sequence of trial and error, an approach typified by the option to restart an encounter at any time with newfound knowledge. Each restart acting as another chance to listen to Metpahor’s incredible battle music, a draw which can not be overstated.

It’s a flexible system that allows you to create a specialised party, but ultimately leads to a lot of tedium as you cycle menus between encounters to optimise for each battle. Maybe those menus are so beautifully ornate as acknowledgement that you’re going to spend large chunks of your playthrough traversing them.

Over the course of Metpahor’s enormous runtime, it eventually became too much. Repeating encounters and grinding archetypes, repetitive conversations between characters, and the slow advance of the in game calendar sapped me of momentum (I’ve been playing this on and off since January 2025). Swapping the difficulty to a lower setting allowed me to glide through the final stages, the lack of friction definitely robbed the finale of jeopardy, but honestly, I was just glad to see it through.

It makes Metaphor a difficult game to recommend, despite its incredible style, the interesting characters, and its intriguing world. There’s ultimately just way too much of it, its brightest spots are lost in the drudgery.

On the surface Mina the Hollower looks like a classic 8-bit Zelda. You have a central hub filled with colourful characters, dungeons that can be attempted in any order, and crunchy evocative pixel art.

Dig a little deeper though, and Mina has more in common with a Souls-like. It’s mean, especially early on. There’s the familiar tension of retrieving currency on death, and of pushing on to the next checkpoint when you’ve got no healing flasks left. There are even parries and dodge rolls, well, sort of.

The dodge roll here is more of a dive, Mina burrowing beneath the ground for a few seconds before springing back up into the air. While that might not sound like a huge departure, shifting the timing from a last second dodge, to a pre-emptive dodge, feels like a whole new skill to master. You want to be underground or in the air when that hit lands.

Fortunately, Mina has plenty of tools to help with the transition. A huge number of unlockable trinkets grant Mina game changing abilities – longer jumps, automatic heals, revives, summons, and more. Five primary weapons all with distinct movesets, and a host of sidearms (umbrellas, bicycles, throwing knives, etc.) allow for a lot of creativity. Not only to overcome difficulty spikes, but also when exploring Tenebrous Isle.

The island itself is split into different areas, each with their own twist that forces you to rethink your approach. Slippery ice, boggy marshes, metallic factory floors. Each mix up the moment to moment to gameplay, but I think you’ll ultimately enjoy being in some of these places more than others, both aesthetically and mechanically, and I think in a game that otherwise encourages you to revel in each screen, that’s a shame.

Mina’s world is deep with secrets, and burrowing beneath the ground becomes one of Mina’s key verbs for discovering them. Secret pathways, hidden loot, and whole new areas are often hidden beneath the ground or out of view. Plenty of which is hinted at by the bustling crowds at Ossex, the hub town, or the strangers and explorers you meet across Tenebrous Isle. But, more often it’s your own curiosity that drives discovery, and it doesn’t take long before you’re scouring all over the map for what may be hidden beneath.

There is depth in its story too. Beneath the conventional structure of visiting each area to defeat a major boss, there’s quite a lot going on. Mina is a celebrity on Tenebrous Isle, she is both praised and heckled for her achievements. While her motivations, and those of other characters are often ambiguous, leading to questions over consequences and legacy. It’s a sharp thing, with a sting in the tail.

Everything here feels polished to the brightest sheen, and you would expect no less of Yacht Club Games, the architects of Shovel Knight, another 8-bit masterclass. In Mina their effort is expanded to a larger more populous world. One filled with charm and character, but also a little venom.

One liners, explosive chases, smouldering glances, and the steady tones of lapping surf. Bond as a franchise is a series of moments. Of set pieces and beautiful locations strung together by the barest of threads. 007 First Light follows that trajectory perfectly.

As you might expect from IOI, the locations depicted are stunning, though, maybe not as consistent as Agent 47‘s travel destinations. Stunning Vietnamese holiday resorts, and Mauritanian ship graveyards give way to mundane office complexes and museum storage areas. The latter let down by their linearity, rather than their lack of grand vistas.

Stages here are split into clearly defined modes, set pieces, shootouts, stealth, and exploration. These exploration sections are the biggest overlap with Hitman, but are far less open, with just a few different ways of moving into the next phase. This is disguised by allowing players to identify opportunities organically, but often leads to false starts, where it isn’t always clear how to progress. These stilted sections are usually backed up by sneaking through vents and crouching behind boxes as part of multi-phase infiltrations, though the option to bluff you’re way out of trouble feels distinctly Bond.

Steath and shooting in First Light are by far the flattest segments, and when it leans on either for too long, it feels most at odds with its source material. At their best these interactions are placed in larger maps, where small scale conflict can be resolved without turning into a tedious shooting gallery. Jumping between the different routines before settling into a rut.

Enemy aggression, and low ammunition counts encourage you to keep moving, pushing forward to disarm enemies. Gadgets can be used to turn the tide (think pen missiles and watch lasers), but amongst the chaos it can be tough to make the most of them, and I found myself regularly staring at the loading screen for a second chance. It’s a far cry from the swift competency we’re familiar with, but then, maybe that’s by design.

This is a Bond origin story, so he can be forgiven for a few one liners in need of more workshopping, but for the most part, Patrick Gibson portrays a believeable rendition of young Bond, crafting a persona that is both recongisable and distinct. His charm elevated by the stellar performances of the supporting cast, with a particular nod to Lenny James who plays Bond’s jaded mentor.

First Light is at its best when emulating cinema. It’s worth playing for the tutorial alone, a training montage that smash cuts between clambering, brawling, and driving. It’s the most dynamic and engaging tutorial I’ve ever played. It’s a shame, then, that the best First Light has to offer is served up in the opening hours.

34, soon to be 33. Painted in the sky, across the sea from the beautiful port town of Lumière is the number 34. A warning to all who near that age, that it’s their turn to face the Gommage, an annual annihilation event that casts a shadow over the town and our characters.

There is tension in Lumière between those who accept their lot, no matter how short their lives will be, and the expeditioners, those who want to stop the Paintress and the Gommage for good. Should they fail, then the goal is to uncover as much as possible for “Those that come after”, for the next expedition.

We follow a small group who make up a part of Expedition 33, with focus falling mainly on Gustave and his adoptive sister Maelle. Expedition 33 brilliantly showcases the emotion and strife amongst its human cast, characters are voiced and animated beautifully. Animations which carry over into spectacular battles and boss encounters.

Combat is dynamic, adding extreme risk/reward quick time events to a turn based structure. It’s possible to complete each encounter without taking a hit, and if you’re able to time it just right you can reflect enormous damage back at enemies. It leads to a tense lethality that is in check with the games tone and atmosphere.

Juxtaposed are the Gestrals, characters seemingly created to add some levity to an otherwise dour affair. I understand trying to prevent everything from feeling one note, but all of the non-human characters feel much more one-dimensional than the core cast, and are a real weakness in the storytelling. Pacing and enthusiasm killed by their presence.

Much has been made of what Sandfall were able to create with such a limited budget, but I wonder if this is just one example of that budget being stretched too thinly. Other examples include the stages which are as disparate as Mario biomes, a poorly utilized camp system, superfluous relationship tracking between characters, and a world map that, while beautiful, doesn’t have too much contained within it.

For a game so decorated in plaudits and critical acclaim, and despite being such a shiny and expensive looking game, I was surprised by how unpolished it is. I wonder if what we’re really celebrating is how unique Expedition 33 feels when you stack it against the other shiny and expensive games that all feel exactly the same.

That is has been created by a group of former Ubisoft developers only highlights the lack of ambition among those AAA publishers. Its success will hopefully inspire investment in similar games that wear the imprint of its creators proudly.

Expedition 33 is beautiful, it’s sharp, its characters are dripping in style, its intriguing story is told with cinematic flair, and it has an all timer of a soundtrack. But what is most winning about Expedition 33 is that it feels unique, and true to Sandfalls vision. Distinct in a way that only they could make it.

Moss Moss is a game developed for Pico-8. Armed with a jump and a dash our little ball of moss must spread greenery over the soily patches of each screen. Stepping on any barren land will cause leafy vines to unfurl as melodic bleeps and bloops bring life to an otherwise minimalist experience. There are shades of Animal Well here. The empty atmosphere, the character design… the bubbles. I don’t mean for that to sound reductive. I think it’s remarkable that a game so tiny can evoke the highs of an indie superstar.

Progression can feel like a puzzle. Secret collectibles hidden across the map are needed to reach the true ending of Moss Moss. Played in one sitting, It took me about 30 minutes to complete and collect everything. It feels so well judged, there’s enough to obsess over, but not so much that it becomes a burden. An innovative platformer that wrings so much out of so little. This might just be a perfect video game.

Trampolinists, quiz show hosts, marching soldiers, micro-biologists, tweezers… Rhythm Tengoku has a seriously eclectic collection of playable characters, all moving to their own beat. The challenge here is learning that rhythm, then executing a flawless performance of button presses. Each stage lasts a couple of minutes, but that leaves plenty of opportunity to flub your lines.

Progressing through each stage demands surprising accuracy, but really nailing a troublesome sequence is properly rewarding. Get through enough stages and you unlock a remix stage. These longer stages, stitch multiple challenges into one, swapping backwards and forwards, sometimes just for one beat, while plenty of new twists keep the deluge of rhythmic button presses fresh.

Rhythm Tengoku is a brilliant, snackable game, packed full of challenge and surprise. Exploring this first iteration has me excited to take a look at later Rhythm Heaven games, including the upcoming release planned for Switch.