Imran Khan is a video game journalist and staff writer at Restart.run. He has made games, he has covered games, he is games. Wait, not that last one. You can follow him on BlueSky at imrankhan.bsky.social, but pursue that at your own risk.
Hi, all! It’s been an odd year. I talked about some of it on this very website about seven months ago, though I guess if there’s anywhere to talk about a transformative 2025, this would be the website to do it. Getting a website up and running again is pretty much like learning to walk again, I think.
Throughout that, my main concerns were twofold: 1) Could I still type, and 2) Could I still play video games? I suppose the fact that you are reading this list is evidence of the former, as well as my work at Restart.run, both of which can also function as evidence of the second one being more or less resolved. I imagine I probably should have been concerned about, like, can I throw a ball to a hypothetical kid at some point, and well, we’ll cross that bridge if we ever get there. But for now? Video games.
But 2025 was also a weird year for, well, everyone. And it would feel like a dereliction of duty, whatever duty that may be, to not call that out. So let’s talk about some of my favorite games of the year, and also some truly “What the fuck” thoughts from the video games themselves this year.
Game of the Year #5 - Absolum
Do you remember Three Dirty Dwarves? It was a 1996 Sega Saturn beat ‘em up that wasn’t actually that good, but I have this distinct memory of seeing it on the demo kiosk on the Saturn at Target and being jealous as someone who did not own a Sega Saturn and could not in good conscience ever convince someone with money to give me a Sega Saturn. Here I was, literally playing Super Mario 64, but I kept staring at this stupid-looking 2D brawler on the next screen and thinking, wow, this looks like an actual cartoon. I mean, it didn’t, but given the technology at the time, it kinda did.
That was three decades ago, and playing Absolum today, I had that same thought floating through my head: Man, this looks like an actual cartoon. Except this time I’m actually correct. In a weird way, Absolum makes good not just on the promise of the Sega Saturn, but on the promise of a hypothetical branched evolution of video games. What if, through some wormhole-like circumstance, the world sided with the Sega Saturn over the PlayStation? What if the next three decades of video game development were just about iterating on and emphasizing 2D arcade-style games, and eventually someone went, hey, what if we freshen this up a bit with roguelite mechanics? Then we would still someday reach Absolum, and that’s kind of neat.
Bafflement #5 - What was the deal with Monster Hunter Wilds?
I have 900 hours in Monster Hunter World. There was a period of about a year where, every morning before work, I would boot up the PlayStation 4, go on a couple of hunts for two or so hours, and then go to work (and then definitely did not play more while I was working, if any of my former bosses are reading this). I also remember being a little shit before the game came out and thinking, and saying, “Moving while healing? They don’t get Monster Hunter at all!” Now I could not go back to standing still while healing. That’s uncouth. That’s for cavemen.
So I tried to give Monster Hunter Wilds every benefit of the doubt. They smoothed so much of that game out, and it didn’t feel right, but maybe I was just being a caveman myself. I wasn’t not having fun! But something felt wrong. It was frictionless. It was the same feeling of your car not braking when you expected it to. I ended up dropping the game after 80 hours because there was just not enough fun in effortlessly getting everything you want.
I don’t dislike Monster Hunter Wilds, but it’s absolutely a lesson that making some things easier is good, and making some things too easy is bad. I think, given the long-term success of that game seemingly falling short, Capcom understands this, too. At least, I hope they do. I can imagine them also not understanding what the hell is going on there.
Game of the Year #4 - Elden Ring Nightreign
An Elden Ring multiplayer game shouldn’t work. And I think there’s an extent in which Nightreign doesn’t work, but it doesn’t work in the same ways Demon’s Souls or Dark Souls or Bloodborne or Elden Ring didn’t work. There’s a sharp edge to it that I think would have been removed by any other developer, but if you keep dashing yourself against it like a wave against the rocks, either the rock gets weathered, or you change shape. Elden Ring Nightreign is the kind of multiplayer game that is not afraid to say, whoops, you idiot, you moron, you feckless shit, you made the wrong decision because of a problem you could not have possibly foreseen, and now you’ve lost.
And as you’re loading back into the lobby, seething about a loss that should have been doable, you say to the rest of Discord chat, “We got so close. Another try, then?” and everyone agrees. Because it’s torture. And that’s beautiful and fun.
And on the next run you bash headfirst into the Bell-Bearing Hunter, and he murders you! And then the run after, you push it a little too far and can’t get to the second boss of the night because you made a run for your runes, and everyone is screwed. And you pack it up and try again the next night. Elden Ring Nightreign is not a game that will change the world or even the genre, but it’s far better than it has any right to be.
Bafflement #4 - Really, you couldn’t think of anything else to do with Mario Kart World’s open world?
I don’t know how one follows up a game that sells 60 million copies. That feels like a lot of pressure. And I think I’d honestly be very forgiving in that context of swinging for the fences and coming up with something odd or strange that I personally did not find works for me. What doesn’t make sense is just…having no real ideas for it at all.
That may be harsh! But Mario Kart World did not suddenly fall into a world that had no open-world games or even open-world racing games before it. Just like every platformer has to figure out its own twist in a world where the red plumber is king, Mario Kart World had plenty of other games to take inspiration from before they shipped an open world where the only goals were challenges and coins that, until recently, couldn’t even be tracked.
In a weird way, it has some of the same problems as Monster Hunter Wilds, where it feels like someone said, “Okay, we have to up the ante with an open world!” and no one raised their hand and said, “But why?” And I suspect that’s because the answer to that question is money, and no one really wants to admit that.
Game of the Year #3 - Split Fiction
When playing a game like Split Fiction, it’s maybe a little difficult separating the overall design experience from the individualized experience you had playing it. That is to say, did I enjoy the game, or did I enjoy my time with it because I played it with my wife? And for a critic, maybe you spend a lot of time thinking about this conundrum, because we like to think of ourselves as Greek philosophers walking around the Parthenon searching for and dispensing high-minded debate in only the most objective terms.
But I also kind of wonder, is there really a difference? At least one that moves the needle significantly? If I enjoyed the game, I enjoyed the game, and it belongs on this list, whether that’s the result of game design, the company, or because of a sugar high.
I suppose this is also a decision made easier by the fact that Split Fiction is incredibly well-designed. The individual moments of Split Fiction’s design are ever-changing and always fun, to the point where you could extend many of them to a full game. A futuristic gameshow where passing a bomb resets its timer? I’m in, gimme ten more hours of it. A platformer where one person controls the level and the other goes through it in real-time? I’m shocked no one else has done this before.
I’m not going to tell you the writing is good, but as an anti-corporate, anti-AI story that is in no way subtle - though perhaps minorly subverted by being published by a company that wasn’t great even before its recent acquisition - I do think Split Fiction’s story is enjoyable. But it’s also ultimately not what I’m coming here for, so even if I flip-flopped and agreed it’s egregious, it would still amount to very little about why I did or did not like this game.
There are a lot of people who, either due to circumstances or preferences, cannot get into this type of game that we’ll call, uh, Fares Wheels? Maybe? And to that I’ll say: That sucks! I think these games have some extremely clever design! I hope you can one day have a good experience with them!
Bafflement #3. I just want a Left 4 Dead without metaprogression, Remedy (and everyone else)
I really loved Control! In my 2019 Game of the Year list on Giant Bomb, I wrote, “I didn’t want to live in Control’s world, but I wanted to consume more and more media of it.” FBC Firebreak should have been right up my alley as someone who put well over a thousand hours into Left 4 Dead 2. But upon closer inspection, the game made the mistake I am sick of these co-op shooters all making: I do not want to make this my job, leave me the fuck alone.
The reason Left 4 Dead worked for me is that it never felt like an obligation. It was a Poker Night, a pressure-free environment where I could be free to join if I felt like playing a game with some friends and free not to join without those friends leaving me behind in a tangled web of metaprogression.
This is, I think, also why Nightreign worked for me, and Back 4 Blood did not. Games are so eager to chase what people playing Fortnite want that they’re leaving behind me, an old man yelling at a cloud. Maybe that’s smart business, though I’d also argue that the two examples I have given so far very much act as counterpoints to that idea. We are more than willing to try out simpler single-player games, but the simpler multiplayer game is still an idea that eludes us.
I think the idea of a Left 4 Dead-style game without metaprogression is probably not one that can ever exist inside of a corporate boardroom, but must exist for consumers eventually if developers want to keep pursuing this path. I am tired of feeling like every multiplayer title is a succubus that needs my life energy.
Game of the Year #2 - Hades II
A few years ago, when I wrote my 2020 Game of the Year list, I spent the entry for the first Hades - my top pick that year - pondering how the concept of the Game of the Year in itself is kind of absurd. None of us have played every game made in a year, so inherently it is just a list of what we happened to hit the dart board with. I didn’t play Silksong this year, I might have loved that more than Hades II. I bet I would have been really into Hundred Line if I had actually gotten the time to play it rather than just, uh, buying it and hoping I have time to play it. I wanted to play Silent Hill f, I wanted to finish Dispatch, I wanted to play through Baby Steps.
But none of that happened. I ended up, in an unscheduled and unplanned turn, reviewing Hades II instead. And I think it’s kind of fascinating, because Hades II is a game about both the eternal torment of immortality and the paths not taken. All the time in the world doesn’t mean you have more time to rest between fits and starts at accomplishing your goals; it means you just have more time to think about how you’re not accomplishing your goals. I could say something profound here, like that’s how I felt about physical therapy and how Melinoe’s own personal drive resonated with the hardest thing I have ever had to do - and it was, and it did - but I don’t think that’s why I loved Hades II as much as I did.
I think, maybe more than other roguelites, there’s this thing about Hades that rewards trying. And yes, that is the core concept of every rogue-lite, but follow me on a journey here. Hades II, and the original for that matter, both present the idea that determination is the only thing that cannot be beaten and that, by virtue of not giving up, you are both the immovable object and the unstoppable force all at once. That feeling is powerful, if you let it be. No matter how many times you get knocked down - or struggle to stand up without a cane - there may be a time where you get up without struggling eventually. Hades II’s story recursively wraps itself around a pillar that there is always a point to trying, even if you fail, because one day you might not. Even if you lose, you made some progress, you’re rewarded with new dialogue, and everyone is telling you to stop being your own harshest critic.
Is that why Hades II is so high up on my list and why it’s the first game I’ve ever scored at full marks? No, I did that because it’s a good game. It moves fast, it’s fun, it’s reactive, and I overall loved playing it. But games are more than just the sums of their parts, at least the truly experiential ones are, and Hades II landed for me at the right context and the right time. The games we love are more than just good games; they are lingering experiences that speak to the person we are right in that moment.
Bafflement #2 - Assassin’s Creed Shadows was good, but games do not need to be this long.
Hi, Ubisoft! Imran here. Why the fuck is Assassin’s Creed Shadows so long?
I can maybe get the argument a generation or two ago that you want to keep people engaged to the point where they do not want to bother trading a game in for a pittance, but the rise of digital sales surely must make that at least more of a moot point. The game does not need to be that long! In fact, I think it would be a stronger package if you kind of focused a little bit.
This year, I played Metaphor: ReFantazio, Xenoblade Chronicles X: Definitive Edition, and Assassin’s Creed Shadows, among other 80+ hour games, and I enjoyed most of them. But they would have been fine, maybe better, at 60 hours, or even lower. I think it’s fine to walk away from a game when you are tired of it, but my problem here isn’t that I’m tired of it; it’s that the length itself is an exhausting factor.
Maybe what we’re actually talking about here is a pacing issue, not a length one. But we’re multiple decades into this medium, so I doubt we’re ever going to find a one-size-fits-all solution. I just think that going to the extreme end of length is the wrong choice versus going the other direction. Did Bananza need to be that long? Did Doom? Or could they have ended earlier and been better for it?
Game of the Year #1 - Clair Obscur: Expedition 33
You know, it’s kind of fascinating. Expedition 33 feels like it is the exact kind of game that might get ignored in a different context. Not for quality reasons, but for amorphous vibe reasons. It’s that game like, say, Shadow Hearts: Covenant or Shantae and the Pirate’s Curse that some people (me) would go around saying is one of the best games out there that no one’s ever heard of, or at least never given a real chance to, and it’s talked about briefly on podcasts through the years.
But that’s not the way the winds blew. Instead, Expedition 33 is a game that became a critical darling. I am not sure there’s a whole lot of reason to explain why, as I’m sure I’m not the only one saying why it’s their game of the year, and I highly doubt I’m the best writer saying so. I imagine, for the reasons I’d really want to elucidate on it, that I would have to spoil the game, anyway, and I don’t really want to do that.
I guess what’s fascinating to me about Expedition 33, besides the game itself, of course, are the same vibes that could have easily just relegated it to a footnote, even if everything was the same. It feels like a passion project, like a game made of a group of people’s desire to pour out everything they had, whether it made sense or not. Does the game need an Only Up section? No! Put it in, anyway!
It doesn’t feel like a game where it was playtested beyond artist recognition; it feels like a game that’s confident in its existence. It reinforces its own themes at every turn by asking the player to poke holes in those same themes with their playstyles. Aesthetically, Expedition 33 is unmatched by any other game this year in a way that I think will stick with me past 2025. I am going to remember certain environments, character designs, boss fights, tracks, and cutscenes for years.
If that doesn’t make a Game of the Year, then truly, what does?
Bafflement #1. Sega, why are you changing things in one of the best games of all time, Yakuza 0?
This might seem like an odd number one, but what the fuck, Sega? Yakuza 0 is one of the best games ever made, and I will stand by this until the day I die, and going back to it with the Yakuza 0 Director’s Cut — WHICH IS NOT DONE BY THE DIRECTOR — is an utterly baffling thing.
I will not go into detail about what was changed because maybe you haven’t played Yakuza 0 before, maybe you haven’t known the touch of another person or smelled a flower or whatever, and life hasn’t really begun for you yet. I don’t know! But I can say that some of the decisions made in this revised version of Yakuza 0 are awful, and no one talks about it because no one decided to replay Yakuza 0 in 2025 except me, and I’m mad about it.
Ending this on a bafflement is weird pacing, but so is beginning it on one, so I kind of screwed myself here. I hope everyone had a good 2025 and has a good 2026 and I kind of hope Grand Theft Auto VI gets delayed one more time because I genuinely, in my heart of hearts, think it would be funny.