GAMES BEATEN IN 2025

We're back again for another year of this! And this time it's NOT even five months late! Wow! So yeah, last year I started a lot of different games and finished very few of them, so I did not actually write about the majority of what I played. This year I'd like to actually finish playing those, ideally? Pretty please? AND I have money now, so I can actually buy new games again. Anyway, instead of any of those, this year we're starting off with...

If you are familiar with the scene of weird, offbeat video games, there's a solid chance you've heard of an outstandingly strange little game for the PS1 called LSD: Dream Emulator. (No relation to the drug, though the assumption is understandable given its aesthetics; the game's title reportedly stands for "Link Speed Dream".) LSD was in many ways a sort of predecessor to RPGMaker darling Yume Nikki, with both sharing the central gameplay concept of wandering aimlessly through surreal dream-worlds and being transported to new locations by touching points of interest, exploring until something forces you to wake up. It was only released in Japan and eventually found a cult following in the west as it was discovered by niche internet gaming circles, where the lack of easily available English-language information around it made it the basis of a variety of rumors about its production. The truth is that it is perhaps the best-known work of artist and musician Osamu Sato, who in fact made several games throughout the 90s, a few of which spent a considerable amount of time as lost media.

His first video game release, Eastern Mind: The Lost Souls of Tong-Nou (released as simply Tong-Nou in Japan), was also the only one to ever receive an official English release and lands at a rather distant second in terms of fame. The premise follows thusly: our protagonist Rin has their soul stolen by the living island of Tong-Nou, and so goes to get a temporary replacement soul from an old man at a shrine and then heads off to the island in order to retrieve their real soul. Unfortunately for Rin, they meet an abrupt and untimely demise as they explore, and the conceit reveals itself: Rin must reincarnate as eight different creatures and fulfil each one's purpose in life to claim their nameplates and unlock the path up the central mountain, where their stolen soul lies. This game was met with mixed reception on its release because, as one might guess from the precedent set by Sato's other work, it is incredibly weird in a way that some random game reviewer of the era might find kind of creepy and offputting. This is because they weren't cool enough to get it. It took general gaming culture far too long to be able to appreciate this type of game.

Tong-Nou is a point-and-click adventure game that just sort of drops you into the titular island (which, for the record, is depicted as a floating green head portrayed by Sato himself) and lets you have at it, and only actually starts giving you objectives once you've wandered around enough to stumble across some way to die. Once Rin has died, you're given a choice of facial features you must take to determine your next life, told what your mission is, and left to figure out how to get where you need to be. (For half of them, at least; the other half are functionally small vignettes where you just wait around for something to come along and kill you. Most of the time this is one of the other player characters.) Its structure is very open-ended, most things can be done in any order, and the vast majority of exploration progress is simply knowledge-gated. While a lot of the things you can encounter are in some way meaningful, the way it's all presented with little context very much gives this game a chaotic feeling where things just sort of happen with no rhyme or reason.

Honestly, despite the fact that this game is not presented as a dream the way LSD is, it still absolutely feels like one. The obvious point of interest is the character designs: all constructed out of abstract shapes in the rudimentary 3D of 1994, with their most detailed features consistently being their eyes and lips, and animated with a frenetic and jittery speed that often makes their designs difficult to fully parse. Things will occasionally just zoom by in-frame too fast for you to even tell what they are. The logic needed for puzzles is thankfully fairly straightforward when it's not just "guess and get lucky", but is pretty abstract everywhere else, most of all in the worldbuilding. ...On the subject of the guess and get lucky puzzles though, one of them is tied to the only true Game Over in the game, and it's such a unique idea for a failstate that I didn't even care that it lost me like an hour of progress. It's the kind of bad ending you only get when a game isn't afraid to eschew the rules of game design for the sake of art and I love it. It has you achieve immortality and softlocks you on purpose in a screen that just vomits random assets and screenshots and lines of text at you over and over as you experience the totality of existence forever. Apparently this was originally meant to be a screensaver? It's genuinely so cool.

This game's old enough that it has to be emulated through DOSbox nowadays, but luckily the Osamu Sato fan wiki has a download link with everything already set up for you (the first on this list), and it's also compiled with the fan translation of its sequel Chu-Teng (which you can also expect to see here at some point) and the formerly-lost Rolypolys no Nanakorobi Yaoki. I highly recommend giving it a shot if you care at all about video games as artistic expression. I've barely scratched the surface here, but this game was really before its time in terms of not being afraid to just be unabashedly itself, and it'd be right at home among the scores of "weird indies" that have the opportunity to shine now. We should all play weirder games. It's good for the soul.

Ga-show, Ga-show, Ga-show, Ga-show, Ga-show, Ga-show, Ga-show, Ga-show, Ga-show...

Once upon a time there was a humble little business software developer that decided to make a video game. And it did fairly well for them! So they decided to pivot to making video games full-time, all the way up to 2009 when they released a sort of spiritual successor to the franchise they started with that first one way back when and accidentally invented an entire subgenre of action game in the process. You maybe have heard of that one? Or possibly the trilogy they followed it up with? I dunno, they're pretty obscure.

I am, of course, talking about FromSoftware of Dark Souls fame. The Souls games have been in my peripherals for ages now, given that I'm longtime friends with a massive Soulsborne lorehead and have therefore passively absorbed a ton of info about them over the years, but I've been woefully negligent in actually playing any of them myself. I played a bit of the kind of mediocre Switch port of Dark Souls Remastered and I've like, booted up Elden Ring long enough to make a character and then spent like twenty minutes running around? But that's about it. I know a lot about how fantastic the creature designs are and a good deal about the mechanics and kind of half-remember the important names from the lore.

But we're not here to talk about those. The allure of janky old dungeon crawlers you need physical notes for calls to me always, and there's not one more archetypical of the description than that very first game FromSoft ever made: good old King's Field for the PlayStation. The original! (Not the game that released in North America under the name King's Field; that's actually King's Field II.) It was never released outside of Japan, but there's a well-circulated fanmade translation patch that's been around for quite some time. I'd had this thing sitting unplayed in my downloads for months when I saw someone mention it offhand in a random stream chat and decided that was as good a sign as any to finally give it a go.

A lot of the most interesting parts of playing this game come in the form of looking out for what would eventually become FromSoft's design hallmarks, which is immediately present in the indirect storytelling format; after an opening scroll giving you a little bit of cryptic backstory context, the rest of the plot is conveyed largely through scattered scraps of dialogue from the handful of NPCs that are down here with you and you're just left to put together what's actually going on yourself. I imagine a lot of this is covered in a manual I did not have access to, as was standard practice at the time. Regardless, the plot we can sort of piece together is that we are a guy named John Forrester (spelling varies depending on the translation) and we're here to look for our dad, who led a squadron into the catacombs in this dungeon that was formerly a monument to a legendary hero now known only as the Dragon. It turns out the resurgence of monsters in here is the work of an evil magician in cahoots with the king, who's gone power-hungry and needs to be stopped. Half of the guys who are important to this story have very similar names and it makes the fine details a little hard to keep track of.

Regardless, we don't need to know any of that to get to the important thing: we got a dungeon to crawl. And honestly, despite how old this game is, I'm kind of surprised by how intuitive all of the level design feels. Each of the game's five floors is fully open for you to explore in whichever way you like outside of a handful of keys and equipment that grants new passive abilities—sort of a pseudo-metroidvania progression—and things are arranged in such a way that you're pretty much guaranteed to find everything you need as long as you're thorough with the space available to you and take note of what you're told, on top of tons of bonus goodies to reward you for being extra observant and brave. The most "dated" element is the considerable number of fake walls, but the game doesn't expect you to be psychic to recognize them; there's an item that temporarily reveals them, always a (perhaps unintentional) visible seam at the top along with enemies regularly placed nearby that will phase through and break the illusion, and there's only one instance where any of them hide something that is part of the golden path's "intended" progression. (Which is still not strictly required, mind. I missed it the first time and only found it later after my emulator lost my save data for some reason.) Enemy strength provides a sort of guideline to the intended progression through the map, but you are limited only by your own skill. Each floor feels impressively vast in its own right, but is ultimately a very manageable size that plays well with the openness to prevent you from losing focus on where to go next. It feels very before its time for its genre, and it's super impressive how well it's executed even this early on.

The combat is not exactly the High Octane Action Gameplay that FromSoft is now famous for, but you can see the seeds of the mechanics they continue to incorporate to this day, namely the use of a stamina bar that depletes with every attack and introduces a timing element as you wait for it to refill. For the most part, it's a matter of keeping out of reach while you wait for an opening to land a hit your opponent, with your options being a standard melee strike and a ranged magical spell. In the early floors you'll be fine simply backing away from your opponent between hits, but as enemies get access to ranged attacks of their own you'll be forced to adapt and make full use of the maneuverability that your ability to strafe affords you. Even from humble beginnings, your survival depends on Schmovement. Facing multiple enemies at once can easily overwhelm you and adds a healthy tension to a given encounter. Your melee weapons have three different damage types that you're encouraged to switch around on the fly in order to find enemies' weaknesses, and Strength and Magic are counted as separate stats that increase independently of your overall level based on whichever one you use more often; you have a character class shown in the menu that adapts to your chosen specialization in real time.

Your walking speed is a little slow but honestly totally passable despite what most reviews would have you believe, which is a technique used to mask the fact that the game is streaming data from the disc in order to cut down on the PS1's infamous need for frequent loading screens. And this honestly does wonders for the game's atmosphere, which—even with the graphics themselves once again exemplifying The Rudimentary 3D of 1994—is strikingly moody and pulls you in effortlessly. Despite it looking the way it does, the aesthetic direction, smart design, and the lack of pacebreaking pauses while you wait for the game to load the next room makes it super easy to get immersed in the world and forget you're playing a video game. There's definitely a sort of magic here that makes it obvious FromSoft's had a very talented team going for them from the very start.

I decided this game is awesome shortly after beginning to play it and actually beating it has only reinforced this in my brain. King's Field is really fun and I like it a whole awful lot. I kinda wanna play the whole rest of the series now and eventually work my way up to Demon's Souls to watch the emergence of FromSoft's design signatures happen in real-time. I think that'd be neat.

The nature of things is that approximately half of the games I play over the course of one of these articles is something I went into meaning to play for a while and finally decided to commit to, and half of them are some random thing I saw on the internet a day ago and proceeded to get really into for however long it takes to see whatever it considers an ending. You'll never guess which one this is!!!

So yeah, Nubby's Number Factory is the latest weird little game I've seen popping up all over my socials, and its visual style is so striking that I immediately decided I had to go track it down and give it a go myself. Despite appearances, we are not continuing the trend of playing some game demonstrating The Rudimentary 3D of 1994; this one came out last week. (Also the intended inspiration may be off by a few years. I just wanted an opportunity to say the thing a third time.) The premise of Nubby is simple: you are working at a Number Factory, which produces numbers. You have to meet your rising number quota by making more numbers, which you do by flinging your spherical friend Nubby into a plinko board where he can bounce off of pegs that each have numbers on them. When Nubby reaches the bottom of the board he dies, but his lost life is restored as long as you've successfully hit your goal for the level. If you run out of lives the sun will explode. All pretty self-explanatory.

Nubby visually aims to land somewhere in the ballpark of a Y2K-era PC game filled with prerendered 3D graphics and nails it, along with a side helping of contemporary amateur web aesthetics; sort of like if the type of guys making janky gifs for their personal homepages on Geocities back in the day had today's ease of accessibility to independent game development tools. It's very Hypnospace Outlaw, complete with the vibe that this came from a universe adjacent to ours but markedly weirder and sillier in numerous ways. The fact that the hot new video game everyone is talking about is this of all things makes me feel like I've stumbled into an episode of a Nickelodeon sitcom, except instead of trendy child actors the "everyone" in question is like 30 years old. It looks and feels like a fake video game that some TV writer came up with and it rules. I've already found myself in the situation where I might see a card game with a dumb name at work and think "What the hell is Skipbo? That sounds made up. Anyway I can't wait to get home and play Nubby." I wish more video games were like this.

Befitting something that apes the look of an old PC game, Nubby carries with it the same sort of casual puzzle gameplay vibe you'd get from the classic PopCap catalogue with something like Peggle, but infuses it with a more modern structural twist by heavily incorporating roguelike elements: every few stages will have you buying powerup items from a shop or picking between free perks to apply modifiers to your gameplay and aid you in making as many numbers as possible. It turns out this is an exceptionally dangerous combination of things, because the already addicting casual gameplay approach is only amplified when you give the player the tools to make absurdly big numbers go up on their screen. It compels you to want to do just one more run, because ooh the synergy between that item and that perk had so much potential but I lost my last life to an unlucky shot before I could see it come to fruition and that's just tantalizingly cruel!! It's the kind of game that you decide to boot up for a little while, maybe kill the next twenty minutes with a few runs, and then before you know it you've been playing for over an hour, you can't actually see the board past the cartoonish wall of special effects and sixteen-digit score popups, and your goal per round is in the quintillions. At this point you're not sure it's actually possible to lose, but if you keep going long enough the game might crash and give you some form of release.

Nubby is not without its flaws, of course. It's a one-man production that blew up overnight, on its first release version before any updates. As it stands, a huge chunk of the items currently in the game have a problem with losing all relevance later into the run because they don't take into account the incrementing score values and can only be upgraded once, so things that might be a huge boon early on just end up taking up space with extremely limited at best ways to get rid of them, while other items of the same rarity stay useful the whole way through. In a way this is an interesting tradeoff for some security at the start of a run, but in practice it more feels like it's just sort of placing arbitrary limitations on the variety of viable builds. While it makes sense given the plinko inspiration, Nubby's physics are also so unpredictable that it frequently feels more like frustrating gambling than skill, and I've lost countless runs to what seemed like a surefire angle causing him to bounce off of one peg and then artfully dodge literally all of the others to sail straight into a hole. The challenges are, by the dev's own admission, sort of a rushed afterthought. Things start to get a lot buggier as you get into later rounds with more inflated numbers. But to the game's credit, a lot of this is being actively worked on! This is simply a critique of release-state Nubby, which is by no means the game's final form. (It does feel weird that a game that feels like such a time capsule is going to receive active updates, but I'm not complaining.)

This is the first full release of solo developer MogDog, whose website also goes all-in on the really fun Y2K internet aesthetic, and who portrays both the rotating head in the splash screen at the start of the game and also the factory supervisor "Tony" who makes little faces on the side of your screen based on how you're doing like the Minesweeper smiley guy. Mog is a self-taught gamedev and artist in college who happened to stumble onto success through a handful of popular streamers playing this silly little game. It's always nice to see this sort of thing. Go throw some support their way! The game's only $5 and it's only gonna get better! Usher in a new era of Nubby!! I want to live in a world where a game as funky and inexplicable as this can stay relevant in the public consciousness for as long as possible!!

Well, now that I've beaten King's Field for the Playstation, it's only natural that I move onto King's Field for the Playstation. What? That sounds confusing?? What's wrong it's normal. It's normal that it's like this.

So yeah: as previously mentioned, since the first game wasn't released outside of Japan it got the Final Fantasy treatment and the first installment released in the west was marketed as the first entry in the series, dropping the sequel titling; this would continue for the rest of the series after this, with King's Field III becoming the western King's Field II and King's Field IV dropping the number altogether in favor of a subtitle. For the sake of keeping this from getting too confusing, I'm just gonna be using the Japanese titles from here on. Might include the IV subtitle for formality's sake, but we're not there yet!! We're getting ahead of ourselves! We're here to talk about King's Field II!

Coming straight off of the first game, KF2 admittedly took a lot longer to click with me, though a considerable part of that is just that things being different feels Weird and the brain inherently likes to resist it. It's immediately a faster game, though the cranked-up playerspeed does reveal how much the slower walking in the original did to keep the game running consistently; here it feels like the speed of everything is tied directly to the framerate, so sometimes you end up moving even slower if you walk into a room full of enough enemies, and sometimes the game runs so smooth that it feels like it's been way overclocked. On top of that, it also introduces a sprint button in case the base walking speed upgrade from the previous game wasn't enough for you. (The sprint ended up causing some issues, actually, because it's on the same button as interact and I never lost the muscle memory to mash it over a felled enemy to pick up their drops immediately; in this case, doing so before you allow your power gauge to refill will count as using all your stamina and you'll have to wait for a precious eternity before it starts moving again, which is treacherous when you're surrounded by multiple monsters. I eventually ended up finding boots that disable sprinting as a tradeoff and never took them off because this was annoying as hell.) ...The turning speed still sucks though. It does still take a million years to do a simple pivot.

Rather than an abstract stone dungeon with a cave system just kind of growing out of it as in the first game, the setting of this game makes a bit more of an effort to feel grounded in a physical space. It follows a prince named Alexander and/or Aleph, who's washed up on the shore of the cursed island of Melanat during a failed attempt at an expedition there; he's a friend of the king Alfred (who is the protagonist of the first game actually and that's just his middle name, don't worry about it) and he's heard tell of the legendary Moonlight Sword that lies hidden on this island, which bears the power to break the curse. He's a little underprepared on account of the whole shipwreck thing, but while he's here, he may as well try to do what he came for. There's still plenty of big gray slab walls and gravestones, but there's also a lot more variety outside of that: open-air villages, craggy shorelines, haunted watery caverns, imposing castles, to say nothing of the wild turn that the final area turns out to be. In lieu of the plodding walking speed to hide load times, they instead go for the old faithful and have a lot of hallways and tunnels connecting the areas. The layout of this map is very open and much of it is gated only by enemy difficulty, marking the start of more distinctively metroidvania-like design structures in comparison to the first game's clearly delineated floors.

King's Field II mixes up the formula in ways that admittedly had to grow on me; traps feel meaner, enemies can suddenly maim you with nasty combos or snipe you in unavoidable spots, certain statuses have been upgraded from a minor inconvenience to a nigh-on death sentence. Instead of just being fake pass-through walls, hidden doors now need to be manually activated by interacting with them and lack any consistent visual tell, leaving finding them almost entirely relegated to lucky guesses or hugging walls and mashing. It's a shift in the design language that I definitely had to adjust to after making specific note of how intuitive and accessible the first game felt for its age, but I came to learn that language and meet the game on the playing field it presented. Sure, I'll preemptively back away from any wall or chest I open now in case there's a spike trap or skeleton hiding inside. I took it for granted when they never did that kind of thing before, but I really should have been prepared for it just in case. Fool me once, et cetera.

The music is a lot more understated compared to the bumpin' tunes from the first game, which I initally felt was a lot more forgettable, though some of these songs have definitely stuck with me now that I've spent time with them and come to appreciate the thick dreary atmosphere they create. (The slowness of the music and quiet mixing also contributes to a really weird mismatched vibe with the aforementioned occasionally-hyperactive gamespeed.) The instant atmospheric magic that the first game had isn't quite as strong here, but the sound design easily makes up for the difference besides; a lot of things in this game make weird sounds, and the spacial audio in the game goes through walls, so you end up with a lot of situations where you'll hear something that you cannot see and you're just left to let your imagination fill in the blanks as you wonder what the hell that was. And a lot of the time the monsters are suitably weird to match! Barring the freaky final boss, the original King's Field largely relegated its rogues gallery to very traditional sword-and-sorcery monsters like mummies and golems, so imagine how delighted I was to venture downstairs in the first area of the next game and find a giant two-headed snail. (It was very.) Things like the vaguely tarantula-shaped blue jumping thing and the weird little seahorse-dragon that inexplicably hangs out in giant termite nests feel like the warmup act to Fromsoft's eventual creature design chops cranking out banger after banger.

The level design is tightly put together in a way that I felt really rewards exploration and thinking outside the box, though I did feel like it was sometimes a little too obtuse, and the integral fast-travel system is something I had to learn about from an external guide because the translation on the relevant item descriptions is clunky enough that I didn't understand the mechanic. (Before this, which was about halfway through the game, I just assumed that there were bunch of weird softlocks built into the design and I'd eventually get some sort of ability to jump or climb out of all of these big holes that don't kill you.) But once you DO understand how to escape the one-way pits they do become really cool!! It made me feel super smart to figure out that the big drops near the start are survivable actually, and get rewarded for experimenting with them! On my last cleanup lap through the game before the final boss I stumbled across a whole section of the map right at the beginning of the game that I just missed somehow, and there's still a few things that I never really figured out even with a more than full day's worth of playtime. There's a ton of depth to this game for anyone willing to put the energy in.

Anyway, please enjoy the official art I've chosen as the header image for this section, which depicts the protagonist wearing a big bucket helmet and seemingly no pants. He looks like a doofus. It's awesome. You can look at this image all you want while I'm busy playing the next one, OK?