by reddirect
Another year older, another year wiser, right? Especially this year when it felt like we were learning new things on a daily, sometimes hourly, basis.
No one will ever look back fondly on the year 2020. It has been a collective trauma we all experienced. There were certainly glimmers of positivity sprinkled throughout the past twelve months, some small moments that were incredibly cathartic, but for the most part, I think we'd all like to write this one off and never look back.
It wasn't a good year. But I hope that as we move into 2021, as the end of this incredibly challenging period begins to inch closer, we can continue to find joy in our daily existence. I hope we're able to rediscover spontaneity, something that I didn't realize how much I took for granted until I had to carefully plan out something as simple as going to the grocery store. When all that surrounds us is disorganization and isolation, we must work hard to find the small moments that keep hope alive, spreading that same message to others every chance we can. Love to everyone out there who made it through this year. It's been one for the history books.
Along with the chaos and disaster, there were plenty of strong video games that filled this calendar year, but I'm feeling far less enthusiasm for the specific ranking of these games than previous years. Maybe it's the COVID Blues that've got me down, or maybe I'm just getting older and I care less about getting the order exactly right. Either way, I'm less convinced of the exact position of these games than previous years in which I've made lists.
There were so many great games released that it was sort of a bummer when a lot of them possessed some serious flaws as well. I found myself contrasting the negative qualities of games rather than celebrating their positives. But what else can be done in a year like 2020, right? It seems that all we've done is compare horrible circumstance to horrible circumstance.
I didn't get my hands on either of the new consoles, so I'm almost definitely missing a game or two that probably would have cracked my top ten. If Miles Morales plays just as well as Spider-Man 2018, then it would almost certainly make the cut. The same probably goes for other PS5 exclusives like Demon's Souls. Nonetheless, the following list is filled with the games I got to, and this is the order in which they gave me the greatest satisfaction.
Consider this your mild spoiler warning for the games below, since it'll be hard to talk about some of them without detailing the impact of their narratives. As always, please start at the bottom of the list and work your way to the top.
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Animal Crossing: New Horizons is the best game of 2020 because I, and thousands of others, might not have survived this year without it. Flashback with me to March. Chances are at some point, you were told not to return to work the following day or week. We were anticipating a few weeks off to get the situation with a virus under control. Weeks shifted into months, and, well, here we still are, most of us isolating in our homes, denying ourselves community and spontaneity that we clearly took for granted. Even as the light at the end of the tunnel begins to emerge, as we take stock of the year that was and wasn't, the pervading emotion in my heart is grief. Grief for all of the opportunities that were unrealized, all of the holidays, events, and celebrations that couldn't happen, all of the normal everyday routines that had to be modified, stripping them of their humanity in the process. We'll never get this year back, and I know none of us want to dwell on 2020 any more than we already have. Animal Crossing: New Horizons came out a week after my lockdown began. I saw it as a godsend, a gift of structure and community when I could not find any of it in my regular existence. Here, I found a place, my own isolated island, that I could channel energy and time into improving, each day adding a little bit more, slowly expanding by constructing tools and bridges and buildings, inviting friends to come and live with me. My wife moved onto the island and enjoyed what was her first Animal Crossing game ever. As of today, I have logged over 115 hours with the game, and my wife has logged more than me. Needless to say, she's become a fan of the series. I've been an adoring fan of this franchise since the original on the Gamecube. Each subsequent release had enough to bring me back, but always seemed to lack the magic charm of my original town, my original villagers. The Switch is the perfect console for Animal Crossing because it provides both high graphical fidelity of the console and the portability of the handheld. New Horizons is, to me, the absolute best Animal Crossing game to be released, eclipsing even the original at this point. And maybe I feel that way because this game was my lifeline during this year, but I also think the game has begun to free itself of the chains that have held it back in previous iterations. So many folks have made exhaustive lists chronicling all of the little flaws in this game - the fact that multiple items can't be crafted at the same time, the conversations with villagers that tend to repeat more often than preferred, the rollout of holidays that didn't generate the optimum level of excitement. Some of these are problems that have been with the series since it premiered. Yet we cannot just lament the faults with celebrating the multitude of amazing features here. For the first time, you have complete customization of nearly every element of your town. You have the capability to terraform the very land you stand on, shifting the path of rivers, incorporating waterfalls and gradients where you want them. The resulting creations I've seen from folks online or even in my own Friends List are astoundingly unique. The updates pushed throughout the year have continued to expand the potentials of the game, introducing collectible artwork, diving, and other features that folks loved in previous games. I have no doubt that the game will continue to grow as it moves into its second year, and I will continue to go back to see how it's changed. Like so many other great games this year, the small moments are some of the most memorable ones. The way the leaves in the tree would shake as the breeze rolled through them. The subtle, icy glint on the snow-covered ground. The way Apple changes into her workout uniform before pumping iron in my town square. The fact that Bam is always talking to me about getting ripped abs while eating a donut or drinking a soda and sitting on the ground. The sad music that plays in Nook's Cranny in the final minutes before the shop closes. And while a number of my experiences overlap with the masses who also played this game, each one of them had a unique experience with their own villagers on their own island. That's the magic of Animal Crossing. When I couldn't see my family for months, I knew I still had a community of people (well, animals) who were counting on me to show up and complete my daily chores. I could still bring joy to others by crafting gifts, planting flowers and trees, inviting residents to stay permanently on my island. New Horizons provided me the community I lacked this year, and the fact that it was one of the biggest selling games of the year, proves I wasn't the only one who felt this way. I hope that as we move into 2021, as we emerge from the bunkers we'll have been holed up in for over a year, we begin to cultivate those communities within our hometowns as well. Let's send letters to our loved ones, not because we're expecting some piece of clothing we don't have in our catalogue yet, but because it makes the other person feel valued. Let's invest our time and money in making our local businesses vibrant, ensuring that every town has a unique energy that you just can't find anywhere else. Animal Crossing provided us all with a utopian community in a hellish year. Let's learn from it and strive to make that fantasy island community a reality in each of our own homes.
I think I first fell in love with Greek mythology as a kid when I saw the animated Disney film Herclues. Those horrifying monsters, those colorful gods and goddesses, those feats of strength and bravery. It was all exactly what I loved, everything about it. We've seen countless adaptations of the stories from antiquity in film, literature, and, of course, video games. Some are pastiched send-ups, others are grounded and emotional. Hades, the latest from Supergiant, occupies that glorious, gooey middle zone where it can be funny without being immature and heart-felt without being melodramatic. I can remember seeing in-game footage of Hades while it was in early access almost two years ago. This was right on the heels of my absolute obsession with Dead Cells, and I was primed for another rogue-like. I knew I had to get my hands on Hades as soon as I could. Lacking a PC, I had to wait patiently until the game was finally announced for the Switch earlier this year. Another stunning port on Switch, Hades is a game that has something for everyone - tight, variable action combat, fully-formed characters with wit and charm for days, an artistic direction that is immediately impressive, and a narrative that is perfectly aligned to the gameplay loop. It just might be a perfect game. Honestly, it is the narrative that allows Hades to rise above its companions in the rogue-like genre. The nature of the genre, where rooms and enemies are randomly generated each time you play, usually means there can be little in terms of linear narrative aside from a big idea like "ESCAPE!" or "REVENGE!" pushing you forward. Hades's core is still those larger themes, but it succeeds by ushering in moments of levity and myth-making. It dedicates ten to fifteen minutes between each run for you to converse with your fellow denizens of the underworld, building relationships that develop as you make incremental progress toward the surface. Giving gifts to characters strengthens your relationship, and they in turn give you items to benefit your future escape attempts. All the while, Zagreus, the character you inhabit, is growing stronger and more familiar with the variety of weapons, which, impossibly, all feel amazing to use. The minute I felt that I was really loving the fists or the shield most of all, I'd play another round with the sword or the rail gun and completely change my mind. Even the bow, which I thought to be the least compelling weapon of the bunch initially, proved itself to bring a slew of advantages into the combat scenarios depending on the boons I chose. There is no bad choice, and all of the core weapons can be augmented in compelling ways to suit your preferred play style. I finally completed the narrative and was able to see credits after about thirty hours of playtime. And I still went back for more. I think it took me at least a year to beat Dead Cells for the first time, and then I quickly dropped it, satisfied with finally clearing a run. Hades is much tougher to set down, even after multiple successful escapes. To my mind, it's the best of Supergiant's games, and in any other year, it would absolutely be a lock for the game of the year. 2020, however, had different plans in store for all of us, and a year like this mandates that only one game can rise above the others.
I've been an on-again/off-again Hearthstone player for the better part of six years now. It's crazy to acknowledge that so much time has passed since that game first appeared. Since then, mobile card games have expanded tremendously, and plenty of contenders, including the OG Magic: The Gathering, have taken their shot at a mobile game. Hearthstone's lost me plenty of times thanks to its insanely expensive cost of upkeep. I know, I know, card games have always been expensive to play, especially those relying on physical cards. But spending even forty dollars three times a year to only marginally keep up with a fraction of the cards needed for some of the top decks is an insane ask. Especially when an incredible, affordable game like Legends of Runeterra exists. Legends of Runeterra is, frankly, the best digital card game available right now, and it's not close. I played a good year or two of League of Legends back at the start of the previous decade, nowhere near enough time to get good, but enough to become familiar with the champions and their roles inside of the game's universe. I've kept up with the professional scene casually over the years, and even though the game is impenetrable and the community is toxic, I still have this weird soft spot for it. I'm excited to see Riot and other studios expanding these characters into other games in new genres. But just because I have an affinity for this universe doesn't mean you need one to enjoy Legends of Runeterra. Legends of Runeterra understands what it means to be a free-to-play game in 2020. It has the most generous system for earning cards out there. Within about an hour of playing your first rounds, you'll likely earn enough resources to craft a deck that is absolutely competitively viable. Even after taking a few months off from the game and returning to it in autumn, I still had enough in-game currency to buy up an entire new deck of cards on the spot. When you're not spending hours grinding for cards you need to build your deck, you can spend all of your time honing your skills at the game itself. The meta has evolved and changed dramatically, mostly thanks to quick action on the part of the developers to ensure that any strategy that's too overpowered doesn't stay that way for long. The gameplay exists at a sort of middle point between Magic and Hearthstone. You're still trading turns with your opponent, playing units and spells as you ramp up mana each passing turn. Like in Magic, there's attacking and blocking, and the first to lose all their health loses the match. There are plenty of ways Runeterra differentiates itself from its competitors, though, including a super clever mana reserve system. Each turn, up to three unspent mana can be recycled in the following turn to boost the number of spells you are able to cast. Patience can lead to strategic advantages several turns down the line if you can think far enough ahead. On top of the excellent strategic gameplay, the package is the definition of polished. Even having only played Legends of Runeterra on phone and tablet, the game looks and sounds incredible. The animation is fluid, and the card units often engage in banter with one another when a specific enemy unit appears or a spell fizzles out. It feels alive. As someone who always loved the distinct champions in League of Legends, seeing them come to life with sharpened personalities and fleshed-out dialogue has been a treat. I love Legends of Runeterra, and if you've not yet fallen down the rabbit hole of digital card games, this is a phenomenal place to start. The game does take some time to learn, but there are enough tutorials available to ensure you know clearly how play works before hopping into an online match. The game is overwhelmingly satisfying when it finally clicks together. Every game feels winnable. At my peak, I battled my way up into the ranks of platinum, a huge accomplishment for a player like me. The sheer volume of competitive decks ensure that there's dozens of ways to play, and you'll never get bored of playing the same set again and again. Going forward, any game that asks players to spend money on in-game resources has even less room to do so now that Legends of Runeterra exists.
I never played Final Fantasy VII. I still haven't. The first time I encountered Cloud Strife and Sephiroth was in Kingdom Hearts. Despite somehow learning the larger beats of FFVII's plot, similarly to the way one learns the plots of classic movies and novels despite never having seen or read them, I was completely oblivious to the smaller conflicts within this game. I didn't know who Barrett Wallace was. I still don't know where or when the sequel of this game will take place, but, uh, I guess neither does anyone else, right? What a twist! There were a lot of folks in the moments immediately following the release of FFVII Remake that were blown away by what this game gave to this longtime fans. Despite not having waited twenty years for this game, I was delighted by FFVII in ways that I don't think any other Final Fantasy I've played has delighted me. If The Last of Us is the HBO miniseries of 2020, Final Fantasy VII Remake is the big-budget Marvel blockbuster that is ultimately too enjoyable to resist. Every moment of this experience is bursting with detail and spectacle. There are hours of cutscenes, there are intricate menus, there are pull-up bar challenges. FFVII Remake takes the active battle system of FFXV and transforms it into a beautiful new beast. It's a blend of active combat that modern RPG players need with those classic elements of turn-based battle still lurking in the fringes. I'm playing one character at a time, but I can still pause time, issue commands to my party members, and watch as they punch, shoot, and enchant the enemies that surround us. After searching for a compelling combat system for years, I think Square Enix finally got it really, really right - the combat is just fun. Jumping from character to character, each of whom play completely uniquely, is way more entertaining than I expected. Blasting enemies from afar with Barrett's hand cannon, pummeling bodies in close with Tifa, and casting spells to maintain ally health and stamina with Aerith all feel rewarding in their own way. Now, I, too, love these characters, and spending thirty hours with them left me hungering for the sequel. Even though the lack of a true climax makes this game feel narratively incomplete, FFVII Remake is probably the most fun I've ever had with a Final Fantasy game. You can tell this was made with reverence for its source material. But I also don't think the positives necessarily end with this series of games. I hope the developers continue to build on this system as they prepare Final Fantasy XVI.
Yakuza: Like A Dragon has thundered its way into the hearts of many, mine included. Ichiban Kasuga is absolutely the character of the year. His peculiar eccentricities, his unflappable enthusiasm, his absolute dedication to his fists. The man has it all. He is a bright beacon of optimism in a shattered land, and even though there's nothing better than punching out some deadbeats, he knows that it's ultimately love and compassion that will bring a society together. Honestly, make this guy president. He's someone we can all aspire to. Yakuza's characters are its beating heart, but its combat is a hilarious amount of fun as well. Gone are the action-based brawls. It's all turn-based now, baby. Characters still have the chance to attack, cast spells, provide buffs and debuffs in combat, but everything is layered with quintessential Yakuza weirdness. Nanba, your homeless party member who rescues you from destitution, can lower enemies' defense by breathing his nasty breath on them. He can also cast spells by spewing alcoholic flames or summoning swarms of pigeons. And that's just one character. One of my favorite moments in the entire narrative was summoning a satellite laser to obliterate hoards of enemy fighters. In the words of Kasuga, "Let's get nutty." Even without having played any other games in the franchise, Yakuza left me totally enraptured. I loved the narrative and the gameplay. It's fair to argue that 50 hours is a ton of time to expect a person to put into a modern RPG. There's still moments that require grinding, and those difficulty spikes can be punishing, particularly if you forgot to save and end up losing potentially hours of work. Despite those flaws of the genre, Yakuza: Like a Dragon has completely bought me in as a fan. I will absolutely play the next one of these, if nothing else for the chance to see what wild shenanigans this delightful protagonist gets up to next.
That final boss fight was some of the most wild stuff I've experienced in games. Up there with the God of War franchise for most cinematic boss battle. I have never felt more like a superhero as the snow whipped and panels of glass shattered all around me. Plus, there's a suit you can own that comes with its own masked cat living in the backpack. The cat has a mask too and helps claw your enemies when you carry out a finishing move. A ton of personality and heart. Absolutely glugged this bad boy down in a week.
Hollow Knight was one of those great games from the last few years that I didn't play immediately upon release, but as soon as I did, I fell in love. Metroidvanias tend to work for me more often than not. I love the reward of digging back through areas that were previously unaccessible, exploring new pathways and uncovering new secrets. The fact that so many developers are now tying intricate stories or gorgeous aesthetics to their games just makes games within this genre even better. And then they ultimately end up on the Nintendo Switch, the ideal place to play them, and it's a match made in heaven. The work that the teams at Microsoft have done to make Ori and the Will of the Wisps look and play as gorgeously as it does on a Nintendo console should be commended. The Switch has proven itself a huge draw for ports, but these past two years have also proven that not all ports are made equally. Ori and the Will of the Wisps looks and sounds beautiful. The charming impressionistic landscapes delight, and although I was initially fearful that their painterly style might hinder the accuracy of the platforming, particularly in a game like this one where precise timing absolutely counts, I quickly adjusted to the games's distinctive look. The softness of the scenery blends perfectly with the game's acrobatic movement. Ori as a character is more nimble than other characters in games like this, spryly zipping through the air from point to point. Celeste's main character was speedy but rigid. Hollow Knight's vessel feels sturdier, focusing primarily on combat instead of locomotion. Plenty of players will laud the narrative here. I found it to be touching - somber in places, surprising in others - but it never resonated with me as deeply as I hoped. Though I hadn't played through the first game, I was able to enjoy the story here without feeling that I'd missed out on crucial plot details. With the resurgence in popularity of Metroidvanias, games that are now playing and looking better than any of their inspirations ever did, it's easy to feel like this type of game is more accessible and, therefore, less essential than ever before. A lot of games similar to this one exist. Ori and the Will of the Wisps is an essential purchase, offering a surging score and serene visuals. Anyone who loves exploring and then re-exploring dynamic landscapes with expanding ability sets should pick up this one immediately.
This year, I was using video games as a coping mechanism far more than any previous year. Stuck in my own house for months, I had to find some sense of fulfillment in the everyday monotony that crept in from all corners of my tiny apartment. For many folks, including myself, Spiritfarer was a late summer delight that provided the perfect combination of realtionship-building and resource-management to keep a brain busy in the face of anxiety. Spiritfarer charms with its menagerie of mystical creatures, all of whom possess wonderful, complex, distinctively human personalities. Your job - providing these spirits with food, a home, and some sense of cosmic closure on their life and relationships - is taxing, but it never feels like work. Spiritfarer was one of the most relaxing games I played all year. Its checklists and timers pushed me through the conflicts, and its charmingly breezy 2-D animated style kept the peaceful vibes flowing. Most importantly. there are some beautifully poignant moments here, especially each final conversation you have as you row each spirit to the Everdoor. Bruce and Mickey, a water buffalo and a hummingbird (my personal favorite characters in the game), final moments with my in my boat were quietly tragic and they recontextualized the entire relationship I had built with them. The game is built up of similar, small moments. I can guarantee there will be a spirit you fall in love with here, and the best part is that everyone will have a different favorite. Of course, this wasn't the only big game this year that was all about taking care of one's animal buddies. While I ultimately had a better time with that other game, I can totally see why others might prefer this one instead - a tighter, more scripted experience with greater emphasis on cathartic moments of emotional clarity in the face of death. Years from now, I'll likely have forgotten my voyagers' names, but I'll always remember the positive memories we shared together on our voyage to the end.
Who knew them lil robots could amount to something console-defining? Astro's Playroom is a phenomenally tactile experience that must absolutely be felt to be believed. The Playstation 5 is lucky to claim the best launch title since Wii Sports. While this simple platformer might not demand the same "You gotta try this, Gramma" energy that Nintendo's game possessed, Sony has irrefutably delivered a showpiece for their fancy new technology that made me giddy after my first few moments. Vibrations, sound design, adaptive triggers work in harmony to usher in the next generation. One must wonder if these splashy gimmicks will take root, especially considering how much additional work it means for developers. All I know is venturing through the past twenty-five years of Playstation, celebrating the consoles and games, the common and the obscure, was a delight, and it resulted in the fastest, most enjoyable Platinum trophy I've ever earned. Gimme more of them robots!
If The Last of Us Part II was the surprise sequel that maybe shouldn't have happened, Doom Eternal is the sequel that I would have purchased immediately after finishing the previous game. 2016's Doom was a perfect distillation of what single-player, first-person shooters should be in the modern era. It was fast, loud, and metal as heck. Even if Eternal just gave players more of the same, a sequel would have been necessary. But Doom Eternal would never have been satisfied with just more. It had to grow more complex. It was unfortunate that in the immediate moments after booting up Doom Eternal that I found it to be disappointing. The general simplicity of the first game had been refitted into an overly complicated series of systems overlapping on each other, all designed with the intention of Doom Guy using every single tool in his arsenal to win the fight and not just super-shotgunning every enemy in a level. Playing Doom Eternal is like trying to play a musical instrument. There's definitely a "correct" way to string together combat to unlock the most satisfaction, and it takes practice and time to get to that point. Like musical instruments, the game also plays better once you've gotten your hands on some quality equipment, which in this game means unlocking the additional abilities each weapon possesses. We all knew the super shotgun is one of the best feeling weapons in video games. But have you ever launched a flaming chain from that gun into a cacodemon and then gloriously glided across hoards of enemies to blast that monster in the face? That's a pretty sublime feeling. Though I was initially hesitant on the gameplay changes, and the story never did much of anything for me since it began taking itself far too seriously, I was surprised that I found myself enjoying Doom Eternal as much as I did in the later hours. I completely embraced the combat, playing through every level multiple times and grinding for the platinum trophy. Having learned its crescendos and time signatures, I think the combat here is maybe even better than the first game now. It certainly looks phenomenal, hitting a delicious 60 frames per second with ease. Some new enemy designs are poor, particularly those marauders whose presence halt all forward progress and any sense of fun, but they're uncommon in the campaign. The overall accomplishment here is a silky smooth shooter that still exists in the shadow of its predecessor but is nowhere near the disappointment that others are claiming it to be back at launch. Based on my hours with Doom Eternal, those players just didn't stick with the instrument long enough to hear its gorgeous, sludge-colored tones ring out.