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2013 has come and gone, and while we were holding out for our surprise Beyonce game
in December, we're finally ready to reveal our Games of the Year.
We've each selected five games we thought rose above the pack last year--
either because they were exceptionally fun, or had something unique to say
that stuck with us after we put our controllers down.
Fire Emblem: Awakening
It's easy to praise Fire Emblem's graphical prowess, the absorbing strategy gameplay,
or its moving soundtrack, but it all comes down to the characters for me.
There is, of course the friendship between the main three characters, Chrom, Lyssa,
and the avatar, that propels the narrative forward, but I spent the most amount of time
investing in the relationships between the members of the Ylisse Army.
Your soldiers undergo many narrative arcs; from seeing a shy character come out of
their shell, to a hot-headed aristocrats brought down to Earth.
I found myself playing levels over and over with new character combinations
to see the different interactions and witness their relationships unfold.
Luckily, there were plenty of opportunities for post-battle fraternization,
as more maps unlock when characters get married and their children join the hero's army.
And while the lack of homosexual and homosocial relationships left
a bad taste in my mouth, it's only a matter of time as the Fire Emblem series
builds on what is established in Awakening.
Deadly Premonition: Director's Cut
In truth, Deadly Premonition's new "Director's Cut" content doesn't significantly
improve on the original—if anything, the extended epilogue detracts from the original
release's punch-to-the-gut of an ending--but it's hard to fault a game that brings
the quirky, fully realized world of Greenvale to a wider audience.
The original Deadly Premonition was wonderfully ambitious, even if strained at the edges.
It was a mishmash of dated inspirations—pulling a combat scheme from the five-year-old
Resident Evil 4 and an open-world, time-sensitive mission system more akin to Shenmue
than the more topical Grand Theft Auto. Even stranger, it borrowed many of its plot dressings
wholesale from David Lynch's Twin Peaks. Further dating the game, when not emulating
Agent Cooper's every mannerism, Deadly Premonition's protagonist,
Agent York, was dictating his thoughts on old movies and 80s punk to a man named Zach
we neither saw nor heard. But the controls were
just off enough and Greenvale was just weird enough, that it almost felt like maybe, just
maybe it was all intentional--especially when one
of the biggest jokes of the game turned into a genuinely fascinating meditation on the
relationship between player and text. Intentions or no, the weirdly dated pastiche
paired with excellent writing and casting came together
for an experience that was both more than the sum of its parts and unlike anything else.
This is still true of Deadly Premonition: The Director's Cut. It may seem silly to name
the "Director's Cut" of a three-year-old game one of my games of 2013, but, really,
Deadly Premonition is a game for every year. The more people who get to experience it,
the better.
Ni No Kuni
Ni no Kuni gave the gaming world something they've been craving for years, a living,
breathing, interactive Ghibli experience. The top notch
cell shading work in tandem with Joe Hisaishi's brilliant score to make the game an instantly
recognizable Ghibli product. And in keeping with Ghibli's sterling track
record the game excels in nearly every area. Ni no Kuni proves that a game can have a compelling
story and complex characterizations while still appealing to an all-ages audience.
It shows that games don't need to be set in the grim,
zombie-alien apocalypse to tell a gripping story--they can employ a child's perspective,
as well. Oliver's adventure takes the player on a
journey through the other world where he teams up
with a colorful cast of characters as he attempts to reunite with his mother.
The story doesn't rely on twists or shock to keep the player invested,
instead utilizing the sincere emotional connection between Oliver, his companions, and the world(s)
they live in to drive the story forward. I was so invested in these worlds and characters,
that long after finishing the game I found myself missing the adventure and whimsy of
Oliver, Esther, and Swaine.
DmC: Devil May Cry
In his review for The Gameological Society, Anthony John Agnello called DmC: Devil May
Cry "Catcher In The Rye by way of God of War,"
a succinct summary of what Ninja Theory's reimagining of Capcom's classic brings to
the table. Ninja Theory doesn't just update the hack-and-slash game with a more polished
combo and upgrade system for a new generation, but it dresses it in a story about growing
up to which a generation raised on God of War--
and maybe even the original Devil May Cry--can relate.
Dante's world is one in which the contemporary vices of our world—the deceitful marketing
of unhealthy foods, a certain commercial, conservative
news conglomerate—are literally the work of demons. While some of these allusions
are a little too on the nose, it's undeniably satisfying to punch DmC's
answer to Bill O'Reilly in the face. The monsters of DmC are formidable foes, each
susceptible to a different weapon--or combination of weapons--in Dante's arsenal. Discovering
the perfect combination is a gratifying challenge, and facing off against bosses in their beautifully
designed arenas is an especially memorable experience.
The most interesting aspect of the game to me is the way in which DmC tweaks Devil May
Cry's thematic tone. The original Devil May Cry
struck an interesting balance of celebrating 90s Hollywood-brand machismo with a uniquely
Japanese twist. Dante was hyper masculine with his leather trench coat, love for pizza,
and office adorned with ***. He also had luxurious hair and an affinity
for tango. Ninja Theory reinterprets these conflicting signifiers into a new game
about finding oneself and growing up. Dante is still a self-decided connoisseur
of sex and machismo, but with a slimmer, prettier design
and a journey that involves learning to empathize with others as a member of a larger community--
a lesson often reserved for feminine narratives. For instance, while I wish the game would
devote more reflection to its weirdly persistent madonna/*** dichotomy,
Dante's relationship with Kat is one of the game's narrative pillars.
His evolution from his introduction as an archetype of machismo to someone who is able
to respect and support Kat feels both sincere and earned.
That sincerity marks DmC as a worthy successor to its predecessors, and I'm interested to
see where Ninja Theory will take the series next.
Shin Megami Tensei IV
I wasn't sure how much a priority a proper Shin Megami Tensei entry would be in a post-Persona
3 world, but I'm happy Atlus was able to take a break from the popular side series
to release a new game from the flagship series that started
it all.
My favorite feature of this installment is the streamlined gameplay for a more modern
audience. Never again do I have to worry about losing
hours of grinding to a difficult random battle. By being able to pay off Death for a second
chance, I never felt like my time was wasted, which is an extremely important feature for
people who don't have as much time to game as
they used to. By giving the player this leeway the game is made more accessible while still
retaining the difficulty the series is known for.
While SMT IV doesn't start out overtly grim like its predecessor Nocturne, as you play
through the first few hours, the fog begins to clear,
and you can start to grasp the depth and gravitas of the narrative Atlus is setting out to tell.
The first moral choices in the game are obvious black and white options that lead you down
differing narrative paths, but as the game progresses,
the distinctions begin to blur, and the moral ambiguity can take a toll on the player.
Wherein most games it's easy to see how to end up the "good guy," there were several
instances where I had to seriously think about the repercussions my actions and words
would bring to Mikado and Tokyo.
Paper's Please
Papers Please is an example of a stubbornly unfun game that uses the very nature of the
medium to tell its story of oppression and despair.
The monotony of learning a system is laid bare
in your work as a border agent for a fictional, Soviet-inspired nation, but it is a system
with dire stakes. Not only are you all that stands between desperate immigrants and a
new life, but you only receive a base pay of $30 a day
that goes towards paying for rent, food, and medication for your entire family. Accepting
or denying the wrong people can lead to financial and legal consequences that endanger
your family and yourself.
As more and more stipulations are added to your proceedings, the game becomes increasingly
uncomfortable to play—made more so by the game's seeming indifference to the horrific
events. Stamping passports, terrorist attacks, xenophobic
profiling, and turning away desperate mothers on a technicality are all treated with the
same somber, monotonous notes. Monotony is tyranny in Papers Please, which
in turn becomes a persuasive power it will use against you.
Tomb Raider
I've always liked the idea behind Lara Croft: the gun-toting, swashbuckling archaeologist
who deserved a spot beside Indiana Jones. But, until recently, the execution has been
a mixed bag of problematic exploitation and cardboard
character motivations. As time went on, one of gaming's
few female icons turned into little more than a sex symbol who was synonymous with glitchy,
forgettable games.
When Square-Enix announced a re-imagining of Lara more akin to the everyman adventurer
of games like Uncharted I could not withhold my excitement--
that is, until the developers insisted on a desire to "protect" Lara bolstered by
a trailer that suggested *** assault. My fears were mostly put to rest when I started
the game and found myself playing one of the most
fully realized character I've come across last year. You can feel Lara's emotional
distress and thought process through her actions and the
way she responds to the predicaments she's put in.
When she is cold or in pain, she will show it, and you will in turn be able to feel it.
And while the game didn't have nearly enough Tomb Raiding for my taste, I was instantly
immersed in Lara's fight for not only the survival
of herself, but the well-being of her companions. This Lara doesn't exist in a vacuum, she
has very real motivations and connections to the people
around her. She responds like a real person (other than her inability to pick up a coat
in the snow) and was easily the character I empathized with the most in 2013.
Tomb Raider gave me the Lara Croft I've always wanted and my top list for the year
wouldn't be complete without it.
Gone Home
Gone Home was the game we needed in 2013. After a year of uproar over the verbal abuse
of a feminist critic, Gone Home is a glimmer
of hope that there is room for alternative voices
in the gaming community. An indie title with AAA pedigree and journalistic support,
Gone Home takes the familiar trappings of many bigger games--the first person perspective,
generic cues from horror games--and creates an experience that is intimate and emotionally
affecting. Gone Home is a game that literally dumps you on the door step of strange house
on a dark, stormy night. You are given minimal
instructions and left to explore. The artifacts you uncover are of a specific
time and place--the 90s when riot grrl ruled and they all contribute to the portrait of
a teenage girl, her new girlfriend, and their battle
for acceptance. In the hour or two it takes the explore the home and uncover Sam's story,
it is clear that Gone Home is both confident in its storytelling and stubbornly feminist.
Some of the exploration is contrived--specific doors are locked so as to ensure the story
unravels in a particular order--but I found myself
so engrossed in the mystery that I didn't really mind.
I was on edge through the entirety of my play through of Gone Home, constantly worried that
I would uncover a horrible, fatal secret about my character's sister or her girlfriend.
By the time I finally entered the last room, I was overcome by so many conflicting emotions--
residual horror, worry, and finally, relief--that I found myself crying in spite of everything.
It is the game we need, and the game we deserve.
The Last of Us
Of all the games I played in 2013 The Last of Us is easily my favorite.
After the highs of Uncharted 2 and the lows of Uncharted 3, I wasn't sure where this
game would fall on the quality spectrum. But I was blown
away by the performances of the main cast and
how their story unfolded. Ashley Johnson in particular gave one of the most impressive
performances the medium has seen thus far. And while the
game did have certain narrative and gameplay hiccups
such as we discussed in previous episodes, it never came close to disparate plot points
and set pieces that littered Uncharted 3. The game added a heavy dose of stealth to
the run-and- gun, action from the Uncharted series,
breaking up the monotony of set piece shootouts Naughty Dog is now known for.
Now it was not only possible, but necessary to sneak past enemies without triggering a
large-scale fight. The scarcity of ammo and crafting materials
add another level of tension. The game juggled both horror and action gameplay
mechanics to deliver a thoroughly enjoyable and rewarding experience. The Last of Us is
beautiful, unsettling, and challenging all at the same
time and the final moments of the game will stick with you long after the credits have
rolled.
Zelda: A Link Between Worlds
I'm sure some who are old enough to remember will say that playing A Link Between Worlds
is like encountering the Dark World in A Link to the
Past for the first time. For me, it reminded of of playing Portal for
the first time. Portal is another game that took something familiar—the first person
shooter—and turned it on its head; the seemingly simple
change of making the gun into something that makes holes in walls completely changes the
way in which the player thinks about a space;
furthermore, Portal struck a perfect balance in easing
players into its new challenges. It never coddled players, but its puzzles built upon
each other in a way that felt organic and encouraged
players to internalize what they had learned from each
challenge. A Link Between Worlds similarly makes a deceptively simple adjustment by allowing
players to move along walls, which in turn changes
the way in which we think about the familiar dungeons of Hyrule.
Perhaps more impressively, despite the fact that A Link Between Worlds does not lock players
in challenge rooms like Portal, it miraculously achieves Portal's perfect pacing.
Players are implicitly encouraged to explore the land on their own, returning to discover
new paths repeatedly as they became more literate in
A Link Between World's new perspective. I was stumped by some dungeons in A Link Between
Worlds, but never frustrated; victory always felt satisfying and, more importantly, earned.
This was all wrapped up in a story that was surprisingly compelling with a similarly satisfying
twist. All considered, A Link Between Worlds is far
and away the best game I played all year.
There you have it, the best of the best of 2013--according to us.
Do you agree or are there any games you feel should have made the list?
Let us know in the comment section below.
"You're not on the list"
"I am now."