Recent reviews by FragDAnvers

Owner quit, dead game.

While I appreciate the concept, the game in its current state feels like a product of a bygone era. The movement is slow and clunky, combat feels janky, and the overall presentation doesn't meet modern gaming standards. It's still in Early Access, so there's room for improvement, but right now it's a tough recommendation.

RimWorld: My Digital Human Rights Violation Simulator (5/5 Stars, would sacrifice a colonist for a better hat again)
So, I heard about RimWorld. "A colony sim," they said. "Build a thriving settlement," they said. "Manage your colonists' needs and emotions," they said. What they didn't say was that it's actually a highly addictive, morally ambiguous, and utterly hilarious test of how many war crimes you can commit before your entire colony descends into a cannibalistic rage spiral.

I started with good intentions. I really did. My first few colonists were happy, productive citizens. We built walls! We farmed! We even had a designated "joy room" (which, let's be honest, was just a slightly less depressing common area). Then the raids started. The plagues. The solar flares. The man-hunting squirrels. And that's when things went... sideways.

Suddenly, my pacifist doctor was harvesting organs from captured raiders to trade for vital components. My skilled builder developed a crippling addiction to psychite tea. And my beloved pet alpaca, "Fluffy," mysteriously disappeared after a particularly harsh winter, leaving behind only a suspicious amount of fine leather. Don't ask. I'm still not ready to talk about it.

The beauty of RimWorld is that it's a storytelling engine disguised as a game. Every playthrough generates a unique, often absurd, narrative. You'll laugh, you'll cry (usually when your best colonist gets eaten by a grizzly bear), and you'll spend hours meticulously planning your next move, only for Randy Random (the game's chaotic storyteller AI) to throw a meteor through your hospital.

The learning curve is steeper than a mountain made of human leather, but "losing is fun" isn't just a meme; it's a way of life here. Each catastrophic failure teaches you something new, usually about the importance of not letting your colonists get too attached to their limbs. Or their sanity.

Pros:

Unparalleled emergent storytelling.

Deep, complex colony management.

Endless replayability (each disaster is unique!).

The ability to create truly bizarre and memorable scenarios.

Makes you question your own humanity in the most entertaining way possible.

Cons:

Steep learning curve (prepare for many, many failures).

Can be incredibly depressing when things go wrong (which they will).

May lead to late-night ethical dilemmas about prisoner treatment.

Your real-life responsibilities will suffer.

Verdict: If you're looking for a colony simulation that's equal parts strategic masterpiece, dark comedy, and existential horror, then RimWorld is an absolute must-buy. Just don't get too attached to anyone. Especially not Fluffy.

Escape Simulator: The Ultimate Relationship Stress Test (5/5 Stars, would get locked in a room with her again)
Alright, so my girlfriend suggested we try "Escape Simulator." I figured, "Hey, a chill puzzle game, what could go wrong?" Famous last words, folks. Famous. Last. Words.

Turns out, "chill" is not a word in the vocabulary of two people trying to decipher a cryptic clue while simultaneously accusing each other of missing the obvious giant glowing button.

The game itself? Absolutely brilliant. The rooms are cleverly designed, the puzzles are genuinely satisfying, and the "aha!" moments feel like you've just unlocked the secrets of the universe (or at least, a very well-hidden key). The graphics are clean, the interactive elements are smooth, and the sheer variety of escape rooms keeps things fresh. Plus, the community-made rooms mean you'll never run out of new ways to question your sanity.

But let's talk about the real meta-game here: co-op with your significant other.

My girlfriend, bless her heart, has the spatial awareness of a squirrel on roller skates. I'd be meticulously examining every pixel of a painting for a hidden symbol, and she'd be in the corner, trying to put a teapot on a bookshelf because "it just felt right." Meanwhile, I'm shouting, "HONEY, DID YOU CHECK THE OTHER DRAWER?!" and she's already halfway through dismantling a grandfather clock with a spoon.

We've had more intense debates over a four-digit code than we have over what to watch on Netflix. "No, it's clearly 7-2-9-1!" "Are you insane? It's 1-9-2-7! It's a date! It's always a date!" (Spoiler: it was 4-8-3-0, completely unrelated to anything we were looking at).

Despite the occasional existential crisis induced by a particularly stubborn padlock, and the moments where I genuinely considered leaving her to solve the final puzzle alone, we always managed to escape. And when that door finally swings open, and you both collapse in a heap, laughing at the chaos you just endured, it’s genuinely rewarding. It's less about escaping the room and more about escaping your own bickering.

Pros:

Ingenious puzzles and room designs.

Fantastic co-op experience (if your relationship is strong enough).

Great graphics and satisfying interactions.

Endless content with community rooms.

Surprisingly effective couples therapy.

Cons:

May reveal previously unknown personality flaws in your loved ones (and yourself).

Can lead to temporary (or permanent) hearing damage from shouting "LOOK AT THE DAMN CLUE!"

The urge to throw your mouse across the room when your partner misses the same obvious thing for the fifth time.

Verdict: If you're looking for a fun, challenging, and potentially relationship-testing co-op puzzle game, Escape Simulator is an absolute must-buy. Just make sure you both agree on a safe word before you start. Ours is "pizza." We needed it a lot.

Golf It!: The Friendship Tester (and surprisingly addictive mini-golf)

Alright, buckle up buttercups, because I thought I was just buying a chill, relaxing mini-golf game to mess around with my friends. We were all wrong. What we actually purchased was a finely tuned instrument of chaos, designed specifically to test the very fabric of our friendships.

The good news? The courses are genuinely beautiful! The bad news? Your ball will inexplicably defy all known laws of physics, gravity, and common sense to find the one pixel on the entire map that will send it careening off a cliff, into a water hazard, or directly into your buddy's patiently waiting ball. I've seen my ball go backwards, sideways, and through dimensions I didn't even know existed. It's less golf, more quantum entanglement gone rogue.

We started with joyful giggles. "Oh, that was a cute little bounce!" Fast forward three holes, and it's full-blown, blood-curdling screams of "HOW DID THAT HAPPEN?!?" followed by accusing glares at each other, as if one of us personally programmed the wind to pick up just as the other was about to get an ace. I've learned new profanities that aren't even in my native language, all thanks to a particularly sadistic loop-de-loop on the Pirates Cove map.

The custom maps are where the real madness begins. Forget putting, we're now engaging in extreme parkour with golf balls. My friend once spent a solid five minutes trying to launch his ball over a wall, only for it to land squarely on my head (virtually, of course). The sheer, unadulterated glee he derived from that was... concerning.

If you enjoy yelling at inanimate objects, questioning your life choices, and discovering new levels of competitive rage with your pals, then Golf It! is an absolute must-buy. Just prepare for some intense post-game debriefs. And maybe apologize in advance for any rage quits.

Pros:

Surprisingly addictive.
Fantastic custom maps offer endless replayability.
Excellent way to discover if your friendships can withstand extreme digital frustration.
Makes real mini-golf seem incredibly easy by comparison.

Cons:

May lead to temporary (or permanent) feuds among friends.
The laws of physics are merely suggestions here.
My mouse now has a permanent dent from frustrated clicks.
My friends have developed an unnatural obsession with knocking my ball off the course.

Rating: 9/10 (Would buy again, despite the therapy bills for my friends)

Alright, strap in buttercups, because Ready or Not is basically a highly-tactical, deeply-stressful, and surprisingly hilarious therapy session for your inner control freak. And yes, I'm talking solo play here, because who needs friends when you have an AI team that's simultaneously brilliant and capable of walking into a tripwire they just cleared?
Recruit to "Rookie of the Year" (Mostly)

Forget superhero dives and slides. Ready or Not slaps that notion right out of your hand, replacing it with a heavy dose of reality, a side of "Oh god, am I going to die again?", and a surprising amount of "Well, that was unexpected." As a solo player, you're the undisputed leader of your tiny, often bewildered, squad. You'll spend half your time barking orders like a drill sergeant: "Stack up! Clear that room! For the love of all that is holy, don't shoot the civilian!" The other half? Pure, unadulterated tension.
My AI: Best Friends & Comic Relief

Your AI teammates are a mixed bag of brilliance and baffling decisions – and that's where the solo fun comes in. One moment, they're perfectly executing a breach. The next, they're staring blankly at a closed door because a single, errant piece of paper is blocking their path. There's a special kind of pride when your plan comes together, then one of your guys calmly says, "Suspect neutralized," when you told them to non-lethally apprehend. Or they perfectly clear a room, only for one to get shot in the back by a suspect you swore was incapacitated. It's a comedy of errors, punctuated by intense firefights.
The Highs, the Lows, and the "Wait, What Just Happened?"

Successfully clearing a mission, especially on higher difficulties, is incredibly rewarding. You've navigated booby traps, diffused standoffs, and probably died a dozen times, but you did it. And even when things go sideways (and they will!), there's a perverse enjoyment in the sheer absurdity. You'll laugh, you'll curse, and you'll keep coming back.

If you're looking for a solo tactical shooter that will challenge your brain, test your patience, and occasionally make you burst out laughing at the sheer unpredictability, Ready or Not is your game. Be prepared for your strategic brilliance to sometimes be overshadowed by your AI's enthusiastic but misguided attempts. It's a beautiful, chaotic mess, and I wouldn't have it any other way.

Dune: Awakening - Where "The Spice Must Flow" becomes "My Water Filter is Broken Again"

Look, I've been a Fremen in my heart since I first read the books, dodging Sandworms and pondering the intricacies of Kwisatz Haderach. So when Dune: Awakening dropped, I was ready to embrace my destiny as a desert survivalist. What I actually embraced was the cold, hard reality that my water discipline is frankly, abysmal.

My journey on Arrakis has been less about becoming the Lisan al-Gaib and more about becoming "that guy who keeps asking for spare water filters in global chat." Seriously, the first hour was a magical blend of awe at the vast, beautiful desert, followed swiftly by the existential dread of watching my water bar tick down faster than my patience with a particularly stubborn rock. I've spent more time harvesting dew than contemplating the Golden Path. My character's main motivation isn't to unite the tribes, it's to find a working well.

The combat is pretty solid, though I've found myself yelling "Bless the Maker and His Water!" more often than any battle cry. And the Sandworms? Terrifyingly awesome. My first encounter involved me attempting to stealthily harvest some spice, only for a colossal worm to emerge, seemingly just to judge my terrible harvesting technique. I ran so fast, I'm pretty sure I achieved a localized time dilation.

Building a base is a blast, assuming you can actually find enough materials without succumbing to thirst, heatstroke, or the sudden realization that you built your entire shelter on top of a nascent spice blow. I'm now the proud owner of a magnificent, half-built hut that's periodically swallowed by the very resource it's meant to protect. It's an architectural marvel of incompetence.

If you love Dune, survival, and the unique joy of realizing you've accidentally dug your base into a direct worm path, this game is for you. Just remember to pack extra water. And maybe a few therapy sessions for the inevitable thirst-induced hallucinations.

Pros:

It's DUNE! And it looks fantastic.
Sandworms are as terrifying and majestic as they should be.
The survival elements are... robust. (Read: punishingly real)
Lots of potential for emergent storytelling (mostly involving your own ineptitude).

Cons:

My water bills are going to be astronomical.
I'm pretty sure I'm allergic to spice now.
My Fremen aspirations have been replaced by a desperate need for a water cooler.
My girlfriend keeps reminding me that I have a perfectly good faucet in real life.

Verdict: 8/10 (Subtract 2 points if you forget your canteen)

My 14-year-old nephew, Kevin, told me this game was "lit" and "straight fire," which, coming from a kid whose main hobbies are TikTok dances and trying to convince his mom to buy him more V-Bucks, I took with a grain of salt. Still, I figured, how bad could a modern RTS be?

Turns out, "not bad" if you like a good challenge, detailed units, and the crushing realization that your tactical genius is utterly useless against human players. I've only played the campaign so far, bravely avoiding the PvP arena where I'm sure my strategies would be exposed as glorified crayon drawings. The graphics are sharp, the explosions are chef's kiss, and commanding a massive army feels genuinely epic.

And let me tell you, the arsenal (deck) builder is seriously cool. It's like building your own custom Lego war machine, picking and choosing units to fit your playstyle. You can spend hours just tinkering, imagining all the glorious ways you'll decimate your foes.

But here's the kicker, the real game-changer, the reason I'm now writing this updated review instead of just replaying campaign missions: THEY ADDED 1V1 AND 2V2 AI SKIRMISH! This is exactly what I, and I'm sure many other RTS veterans, have been clamoring for. I can finally practice, hone my skills against a predictable, non-toxic opponent who won't call my mother names after I fail to properly micro my supply trucks. This addition transforms the game from a guided tour into a proper training ground. I'm not asking for a full-blown Skynet-level AI, just something that won't make me feel like I'm playing against a particularly aggressive toaster, and Broken Arrow now delivers.

This new feature means I'm no longer left to simply replay campaign missions, which, while fun, didn't quite scratch that itch for freeform tactical experimentation. It's like buying a fancy new sports car with an amazing engine and finally being given the keys to truly learn how to drive it on an open track.

So, if you're a campaign enthusiast who loves building custom armies, and now, if you're a grizzled RTS veteran who just wants to unwind and practice without the existential dread of online competition, then by all means, buy Broken Arrow. The addition of the AI skirmish modes addresses a major pain point and makes this a much more complete package for players like me.

Rating: 4.5/5 stars. Excellent campaign and deck builder, and the inclusion of 1v1 and 2v2 AI skirmish modes elevates the game significantly, making it a much more fulfilling experience for tactical practice and casual play.

Labyrinthine: The ultimate relationship test (and horror game)

My girlfriend and I dove into Labyrinthine hoping for some spooky co-op fun. What we got was an hour of me screaming "NO, NOT THAT WAY, THE OTHER WAY!" while she confidently led us directly into the digital embrace of yet another shadowy abomination. I'm pretty sure my cardiovascular health took a significant hit, not from the game's actual jump scares, but from the sheer anxiety of witnessing her navigation skills in a crisis.

At one point, we were fleeing a terrifying entity, and she decided to turn around and give it a good, long stare. I'm not sure if it was defiance, morbid curiosity, or just pure unadulterated chaos, but let's just say our escape was... delayed. I've never seen a virtual monster look so utterly bewildered before devouring us whole. It was like a horror movie directed by Benny Hill.

Despite the near-divorce-inducing moments, Labyrinthine is genuinely a blast. The atmosphere is thick enough to cut with a butter knife (which you'll probably need to fend off your co-op partner), and the puzzles are just challenging enough to make you feel smart before you inevitably get eaten by something gooey. Just make sure you pick a co-op partner who isn't clinically incapable of looking behind them. Or, you know, maybe just play it solo if you value your relationship.

Would I recommend Labyrinthine? Absolutely! Just maybe pre-nup the game session if you're playing with a loved one. And if you hear screams, it's probably not the monsters; it's just me, gently reminding my girlfriend that walls are, in fact, solid objects.

"Drive Beyond Horizons: My Car Has More Personality Than I Do

I bought Drive Beyond Horizons hoping for a zen road trip through a vast, beautiful wilderness. What I got was a crash course in vehicular homicide, resource management that would make a prepper sweat, and a car that despises my very existence.

My typical gameplay loop:

The Great Start: I carefully assemble my rust bucket, feeling like a mechanical genius. "This time," I tell myself, "I'll find all the parts and build a true beast!"
The Open Road: I'm cruising, admiring the scenery, thinking about my life choices.
The Inevitable Catastrophe: I hit a rogue pebble, my engine explodes, a wheel flies off into the abyss, and my painstakingly collected spare tire decides it wants to become one with a cactus. Now I'm stranded, in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by nothing but the sweet whispers of my car's dying groans.
The Search for Salvation: I spend hours scouring every abandoned shack and dusty roadside attraction for a single bolt, praying for a miracle. Usually, I find 17 rubber chickens instead.
The Rage Quit (or Relog): I log off, defeated, only to come back 10 minutes later, because apparently, I'm a glutton for vehicular punishment.

Pros:

Immensely satisfying when you do manage to get your car running smoothly for more than five minutes.
The open world is vast and begging to be explored... if your car lets you.
The customization is surprisingly deep, letting you build the car of your dreams (that will inevitably break down).
Multiplayer is a fantastic way to either bond with friends over shared misery or realize who the true mechanical savants are (it's never me).

Cons:

The physics engine has a vendetta against anything resembling a straight line or structural integrity.
My car's parts have a secret club where they discuss ways to spontaneously detach.
Finding fuel and parts often feels less like an adventure and more like a desperate plea to the gaming gods.
I've screamed 'WHY?!' at my monitor more times than I care to admit.

Overall: Drive Beyond Horizons is a beautiful, frustrating, and utterly compelling exercise in vehicular masochism. If you're a fan of survival games where your greatest enemy isn't a zombie, but a faulty spark plug and a suspiciously aggressive rock, then buckle up. You're in for a wild, breakdown-filled ride."