Duck Detective: The Secret Salami Review

I was excited going into Duck Detective: The Secret Salami.  Since it came out earlier this year, it’s a game that’s lived rent-free in the back of my mind, largely off the strength of its humorous title and fun premise.  A cute little duck acting as a hard-boiled detective and interacting with a cast of colourful characters is the kind of thing that seems tailor-made for my tastes, and the fact that one of its primary mechanisms is a fill-in-the-blanks method of making deductions (sorry, “deducktions”) a la The Case of the Golden Idol (a game I haven’t played but thoroughly enjoyed watching a playthrough of) is the icing on the cake.  Add in some great voice acting, solid writing, and a tightly-paced runtime, and you’ve got a recipe for a quality experience.  And without burying the lede, while it didn’t blow me away, Duck Detective: The Secret Salami is still an entertaining mystery game that kept me engaged the whole time I played it.

Mice Tea Review

Let me get one thing straight: I am not a furry.  Hey now, I see you looking at the subject of this review and rolling your eyes dismissively, ready to loudly proclaim, “Thy lady doth protest too much!”  It’s true, though, I swear!  The presence of anthropomorphism in sex doesn’t entice me to engage with it any more than the average piece of smut.  I’m not actively repulsed by it, mind you, but my casual indifference towards the presence of catgirls in my romantic fiction should hopefully speak volumes about how this kink just isn’t really my thing.

Jill O’ Lantern: Final Cut Review

I’ve been playing a decent amount of visual novels recently, and a common throughline with them all has been romance.  In some of them it’s been more benign, while in others it’s gotten decidedly … *ahem* … steamy.  But generally speaking, the genres of dating simulator and visual novel tend to go hand in hand.  That makes Jill O’ Lantern: Final Cut a bit of a standout from the get-go: it’s a murder mystery, plain and simple.  There are interpersonal relationships that get built up as the game goes on, but the focus is on getting to the bottom of a spate of killings and finding a way to stop them.  Add in a whole lot of queerness, and you’ve got a recipe for quite the entertaining ride.

Hitman: Absolution Review

For quite some time, I’ve found myself attracted to the black sheep of franchises.  Dark Souls II’s controversial experimentation with the Souls formula caught my attention before I’d even played the first game.  DmC: Devil May Cry’s attempted reinvention ended up being my introductory point to the series.  Now, Hitman: Absolution is the latest game I’ve looked at that has garnered a lot of attention – both positive and negative – for being different from what came before and after.  In Absolution’s case, this differentiating factor is a greater emphasis on storytelling and linear design than is typically synonymous with the Hitman series.  But how well did this change work for me, and was it enough to make me a Hitman convert?  The answer, as always, is complicated.

Firewatch Review

Playing Firewatch was a rollercoaster of emotions.  For starters, immediately after finishing the introduction, I had to quit out and go lay down.  The game’s store page says that the protagonist, Henry, “has retreated from his messy life”, but I wasn’t prepared to learn just how messy that life was.  It hit like a tonne of bricks, leaving my head spinning thinking of all the personal pain it brought to the surface.  When I finally managed to sit back down with Firewatch, all of that raw emotion from the intro rapidly evaporated, to be replaced with a strange mystery and a gradually ratcheting tension that made me all but forget about the difficult opening.  It felt like two separate stories had been smashed together into a strange homunculus of a narrative, and I couldn’t decide which one I hoped would win out to become the focal point.  Eventually, though, questions were answered, the mystery was solved, and all the tension disappeared like a plume of smoke in the wind.  All I was left with was a sort of hollowness, and the sense that, while captivating, Firewatch missed the mark to becoming truly special.

The Last Campfire Review

The Last Campfire is not the type of game I expected to see from Hello Games.  Coming out five years after the disastrous launch of their massive, procedurally-generated space game No Man’s Sky, The Last Campfire feels noticeably restrained in comparison.  It’s a small, relatively short puzzle game with a strong emotional core that’s leagues away from the infinite universe advertised by its predecessor.  Huge scope has defined Hello Games in recent times (their next game promises “a fantasy planet the size of Earth”), and The Last Campfire has anything but, making it something of an odd entry in their modern catalogue.  In this case, though, I think the old adage “less is more” definitely holds true, as The Last Campfire is a wondrous little puzzler that was a joy to play from start to finish.

The Language of Food

I don’t like to cook.  It’s not that I’m unable to do it; my parents getting me to make weekly meals in high school made sure of that.  I just don’t get the same level of fulfillment from it that others seem to.  I understand the joy of creating something to be enjoyed by yourself and others, and cooking allows for so much experimentation and variation that the possibilities are seemingly limitless.  However, it hasn’t held any appeal for me.  I appreciate the time and effort that goes into creating delectable dishes, but I struggle to find the energy to do it myself, often preferring instead to use meal delivery services.  I think it’s kind of sad, though, because such services remove a lot of the personality of the food from the equation; I don’t know who made it, how they did it, or even whether or not they think it’s worth eating.  Food can be a language all on its own, and yet my brain constantly fights against my attempts to speak it.  I think that’s what made Venba so striking to me: it showed the range of possibilities when one engages with food.  Note: Full spoilers for Venba to follow.

The Mooseman Review

“Edutainment” is a term that’s gotten a bad rap over time, conjuring up memories of Mario Teaches Typing, Carmen Sandiego, and even the dreaded Mavis Beacon titles.  However, the genre has evolved recently, to the point where the gameplay component is frequently fleshed out and enjoyable, rather than being a mere afterthought.  Take a title like Mulaka, which exists as both an educational piece and a highly entertaining video game.  Developers are realizing that – to keep people engaged with the game’s subject matter – they have to keep them interested in the game.  Plus, even if the inclusion of so much gameplay (the horror!) results in some topics being omitted, getting a taste of a new subject in an exciting atmosphere can whet one’s appetite for knowledge, leading to further research and learning being done outside of the context of the game.

(Obligatory Bob Dylan Reference)

A while back, I did a write-up entitled “The Consequences of a Full-Time Job”, in which I discussed the new job I had started and the perceived ramifications it would have on this humble blog of mine. At the time, I assumed that the only thing that would ultimately be impacted was my writing schedule. However, as time has gone on, I’ve been made painfully aware of my drastic underestimation. My writing schedule is all over the place, to the point where I no longer even feel like I can promise release dates for upcoming reviews. I keep cancelling streams at the last minute due to physical and/or emotional burnout. Hell, I’ve barely even tweeted.

While that all sounds incredibly negative, this cloud of disorganization has had a pleasant silver lining: it’s forced me to revaluate what I do, why I do it, and what it all means to me. The results may not be pleasing to all of you, but that’s the downside to doing something like this that’s ultimately for myself: sometimes I have to be selfish and do what’s right for me.

Replaying Journey

The first time I played through Journey, I cried.  It was – without a doubt – one of the most emotionally moving gaming experiences I had had up to that point, and it’s held a special place in my heart ever since.  However, when I mentioned to my friend Matt that it might find its way onto my “favourite games of all time” list, he made an interesting remark: “Have you replayed it?”