Recent reviews by Dr. Clocknik

By combining the familiar rules of poker with deck-building elements and the chance of rogue-likes, developer LocalThunk has created one of the most innovative and addictive games I have ever played.

The core goal of Balatro is to score points by making poker hands with a deck of 52 cards. This makes it a ridiculously accessible game, as someone possessing even passing familiarity with poker can understand what you need to do to win. However, any player will quickly find they're going to need some help to get higher scores, which is where LocalThunk's delightful twists come into play.

By introducing the titular joker cards (the word "balatro" is Latin for "buffoon") and a myriad of other modifiers, Balatro slowly reveals itself to be a game of ridiculous depth and synergy. And, as with all great rogue-likes, the more you play, the more you unlock: additional cards, decks, jokers, difficulty levels, and challenges await to be discovered. All of this combined with a very satisfying core gameplay loop makes Balatro the ultimate triple-threat: easy to learn, challenging (but not impossible), and incredibly addictive. It is an absolute triumph of game design.

And all of this for just $15? Or $10 on mobile?

Well, you'd be a fool not to give Balatro a try.

Potion Craft: Alchemist Simulator is exactly what it says on the bottle: an alchemist simulator in which you craft potions. "What's so special about that?" you may ask. "Many games have featured the art of alchemy, most of them don't go far beyond simply combining two ingredients and clicking a button to brew." Well, that is where Potion Craft absolutely shines.

As I'm sure many other reviews have mentioned, Potion Craft doesn't simply ask you to combine ingredients at random to try and brew. Rather, it uses one of the most ingenious systems I have ever seen for crafting in video games: an "alchemy map" that players must explore to find different effects for their potions. Alchemy ingredients create all sorts of varying types of paths on the map, letting the player quite literally navigate their way through potion-making. Different combinations of grinding ingredients and stirring concoctions just right (all of which is achieved through gesture controls that seem perfect for a tablet) allow for more refined and valuable potions. It truly is an inspired piece of game-design and is a joy to work with, making the discovery of new potions quite literally a course charted by the player.

All of this is, in part, to service the endless amount of callers that players receive at their humble abode, looking to buy potions for every conceivable purpose. Additionally, as with most places of business, the player may reserve the right to refuse service to anyone, serving either the well-to-do crowd or the ne'er-do-wells, which increases or decreases the player's reputation. More money means the player can more ingredients, as well as more parts for the alchemy machine that lies crumbling in their basement, the repair and use of which can allow the player to create their alchemical magnum opus.

All of this is presented in an incredibly user-friendly interface, with light, folky music and a delightful hand-drawn art-style. There are no pressures and no timers (even with customers waiting at the door) so it is indeed a very relaxing experience. The simple joy of exploring the alchemy map and figuring out more effective and potent tinctures is bolstered by the customization options for recipes, allowing the player to choose different bottles, labels, iconography, and colors for their creations, as well as naming them whatever they wish. It's incredibly cozy and dabbling in a little end-of-day alchemy is a lovely way to wind down.

Potion Craft is not quite the perfect mix, though, and does come up a little short in the end-game department. "The Alchemist's Path", which is essentially a checklist of recipes and the only real impetus to do anything in the game, can become quite a grind to complete near the end of things. It also does not offer anything beyond an achievement for your hard work. On top of this, the game changes very little throughout that time, with maybe one small surprise that broadens the horizon slightly but nothing more than that. In this way, Potion Craft does feel a little undercooked, though at time of writing, developer niceplay games does appear to have plans to expand upon the incredibly solid framework they've laid out.

That all being said, the positives outweigh the negatives and if you like your games light-hearted, cosy, and simple with a healthy dose of ingenuity, then I absolutely recommend Potion Craft: Alchemist Simulator; it is sure to intoxicate.

Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles: Turtles in Time is considered by many to be one the best outings by the titular terrapins, hitting arcades in March 1991 and the Super Nintendo the following year. In the 31 years since then, the radical reptiles have never fully faded from the zeitgeist but their video games never seemed to quite reach the highs of their early '90's adventure. With Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles: Shredder's Revenge Tribute Games has delivered what fans have been itching to play for decades: a gorgeous, tight, punchy, delightful beat 'em up romp starring everyone's favorite half-shell heroes.

The premise is simple, as all the best beat 'em ups premises are: Shredder, the Foot Clan, and all of the baddies associated with them are up to no good and it's up to everyone's favorite amphibious reptiles to stop them. Except this time, even reporter April O'Neil, the turtles' own Master Splinter, and (later) Casey Jones can also jump into the fray. Each one of the turtles and their friends all handle slightly differently, with varying amounts of range, speed, and power, as well as displaying different special attacks and grabs, while all adhering to the same control scheme. The tightness and simplicity of the controls is an absolute joy and each character feels different enough that you'll probably land on a character you like playing the most.

No matter who you pick to beat up the Foot Clan, though, one thing is guaranteed: they will look absolutely beautiful doing it. The artwork and animation that is on display here is nothing short of the best that Tribute has ever produced. It's colorful, expressive, slick, and evokes all the best feelings of nostalgia that are associated with cartoons and video games from the '80's and '90's. Seriously, the team behind all the sprite work deserves an award. The music is also perfectly matched with the visuals, composed by Tee Lopes (also known for the pitch-perfect soundtrack to Sonic Mania). It all fits so perfectly together and is so well executed that it could easily be an arcade game from the 1990's...with a few modern tweaks to keep things fresh.

The game features a story mode and an arcade mode: the former featuring character-leveling and additional challenges, while the latter is just a straight run through every level in the game. The game-length itself is not terribly long but this isn't really too much of an issue, as the replayability is fairly high and there are multiple difficulties to choose from. On top of this, just playing through the game is a whole lot of fun, with all the aforementioned elements melding perfectly together into a top-notch experience. In addition to all of this, you can invite up to five of your friends to join in. Admittedly, with six players all on-screen at once, things can get a little chaotic but it's a joyous chaos that is still a laugh riot.

From a technical standpoint, I did experience a couple of crashes here and there and occasionally the netcode seems like it can't quite keep up with everything going on but, honestly, this can all be forgiven due to just how much sheer fun the game is.

Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles: Shredder's Revenge is absolutely an instant-classic and Tribute should be incredibly proud of the work that they've done. If you're a fan of beat 'em ups, the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, or just video games, treat yourself to this amazing slice of fun. It will absolutely have you shouting, "Cowabunga!"

Subnautica is quite easily one of the finest survival games I have ever played. While it might not be as lengthy, large, or complex as some other games of the genre, it manages to find a nearly perfect balance of all of the elements that make a survival game great without diminishing those all important senses of adventure, discovery, and, in some cases, terror that pull the player in and make them want to come back for more.

The premise of Subnautica is simple: you are a crew member of the Aurora, have crashed on an aquatic alien planet, and must figure out how to make it back to civilization. Thankfully, you live in a slick, sci-fi future and have some very handy tools at your disposal, namely fabricators that can craft everything you need to survive...provided you have the blueprints and the resources, that is. This is one of the areas where Subnautica shines. It's very easy for survival-style games to get bogged down in overly complex crafting systems and that can become a bit of a chore. The crafting system is just deep enough to be interesting without being overwhelming or irritating. On top of this, base-building (which you definitely will need to do to survive) is done in a surprisingly enjoyable fashion that allows the player a lot of creativity, without a huge time sink. Don't like where you put the dock for your submersible? Just deconstruct it: you'll get every material back at no penalty. This simple adjustment makes building your home away from home a joy, allowing the player to eschew worries like, "Should I put this here? Will I be able to move it? Is this the best place for this?" Worst case scenario? Deconstruct your whole base and build it somewhere else! And there's plenty of room to do it.

Which brings me to my next point: the world on which Subnautica takes place. Exploring the planet's massive ocean is a thrilling adventure, filled with wonder, beauty, horror, and mystery. It should be noted that I played the game on "Hardcore", which will delete the player's save if they are killed, and, for myself, it added an extra layer of intensity to the experience. It actually made me gasp a couple of times because I was unsure as to what was going to happen and I feared for my digital life. Unknown Worlds has done a stellar job at capturing what it feels like to explore an ocean, from the peaceful calm of the shallows to the gut-wrenching anxiety of the deep. More than once I felt myself experiencing some pretty intense emotions, from genuine delight to absolute fear. When a game can elicit that sort of response from its player, it means the developers really have done something incredible. And, just like real oceans, there is a lot more in Subnautica than what you can just see on the surface. The game unfolds itself organically as the player explores more, rewarding investigation with more crafting blueprints and resources, as well as some elements that I was not expecting, which makes Subnautica an even more rewarding experience.

This all being said, Subnautica is not perfect. The game does have its flaws: texture pop-in, occasional unstable frame-rates, and lamentable draw-distances are a bit of a disappointment and can occasionally mar the experience. Once or twice I saw some very odd bugs but nothing game-breaking, nor did the game ever crash. Additionally, the end-game, while appropriate, focuses a little too heavily on scouring the ocean for the game's rarest resource and turned my last moments with the game into too much of a grind for my taste. But, to use a very clichéd line for this review, these are but drops of water in an ocean.

Despite these minor issues, it is easily the best time that I have ever had with a survival game to date. It is a thoroughly absorbing title and I whole-heartedly recommend diving into Subnautica.

Throughout their continuing history, video games have defined and redefined what it is to be a video game: confounding puzzles, horrific experiences, cinematic journeys, thoughtful meditations, everything in-between, and every combination of the aforementioned. There is one quality that all video games endeavor to share, though: that they are entertaining, that they are fun. Lamentably, and as much as this reviewer wishes it were not the case, RiME just does not deliver on that front, despite being created with so much apparent care.

RiME sees you filling the sandals of a young boy shipwrecked on a mysterious island populated by ancient ruins, curious statuettes, a delightful red fox, and plenty of mysteries. Throughout your time on the island, you'll look to discover who you are and how you managed to end up here in the first place. Your journey will take you through a variety of beautiful locales, dizzying heights, and treacherous lows, all of which have been beautifully (and stylishly) realized with Unreal Engine 4. All the while you're accompanied by a haunting and lovely soundtrack. It's these qualities that make it so unfortunate that RiME's gameplay is such a woeful slog.

Rest assured, it's not the lack of combat or the heavy focus on exploration that make the gameplay drag so. In truth, at the outset of the game there was hardly any notice of a drag at all. As RiME proceeds, though, the block-pushing, climbing, and even the decidedly clever puzzle elements that are introduced early-on begin to wear thin. Bear in mind, this is not something that would make or break a game. It's the fact that on top of this, the simple act of movement in RiME starts to become an irritation. It began to feel like every action made by our curious hero was mired in some way: his running just too slow, his climbing just too sluggish, the cooldown on his interactions just too long. This even lead to a moment of shouting, "Move faster!" at our hero. At this time, the very game itself had become a draining experience and it was the curiosity about its story alone that kept me pushing onward to the end.

That being said, RiME's ending is touching and heartfelt in a way that was unexpected...but getting there had felt like such a chore that the impact was lessened. I was shocked to find it had only taken around 4 hours to complete when it legitimately felt like it had taken five times longer. This is all written with a pang of regret: RiME has so much good about it but moving around its world is simply not fun and the player spends most of the game doing it. I feel that the best way to express this is to point to Giant Squid's ABZU, which has no combat, is only about exploration, but is an absolute joy to move around in.

There are so many things to appreciate about RiME but it just was not enjoyable to play. On top of this, the price of entry (at time of writing: $29.99) is far too steep a price for what RiME brings to the table. All of this being said, I simply cannot recommend RiME. As beautiful as it may be, as lovely as its soundtrack, its fatal flaw prevents it from being something that all games should aspire to be: fun.

Though history has known many greats in the realm of hidden object entertainment, the presentation and simplicity of Hidden Folks sets it apart. Taking a basic premise and loading it up with charm and good-natured silliness makes for a relaxing, low-key, and occasionally genuinely challenging game.

As far as gameplay goes, there really isn't too much to say: find the hidden people and objects that are listed out in each level to progress to the next. However, the art and sound is where Hidden Folks absolutely shines. Every level is like a hand-drawn masterpiece, not unlike the famous Where's Waldo?/Where's Wally? books (although in this case, the art is black and white). All the levels are packed with adorable little animations, creating hustle and bustle in every scene...but on top of this all the people, animals, and various other interactions express themselves with sound effects that are produced entirely by human voices. The combination of the art and the sounds makes every level a delight to spend time combing through, with the added fun of just clicking on random things to see what sort of sound they make. It is a very simple silliness that all works perfectly and gives the game a very loving, hand-made feel.

That being said, Hidden Folks isn't a slouch when it comes to challenge. Armed only with mouse clicking and simple hints, sometimes finding everything in every scene can be difficult but finding everyone and everything is not mandatory for moving to the next level, plus the player can always come back later to find what they missed. The levels, which are grouped within themes like "City", "Mountain", and "Factory", gradually become more and more complex, with longer lists of people and things to find in ever-expanding locations. The challenge never feels insurmountable, though, and spending time with all the little people is a delightful experience that is sure to make players smile.

The only real downside is that Hidden Folks is not very long. I personally was able to find everything in every level, including the DLC, in about five hours. However, this is not a game that should played all in one sitting: those five hours were mostly played in bursts, usually as winding down time between games or before bed, which is a perfect place for the gentle pace and mood of Hidden Folks. On top of this, the sheer amount of people and things to find on each list makes it very likely that coming back for a fresh game after a few months would make the experience all-new again.

All-in-all, Hidden Folks is a charming, delightful little game that is more than worth the price. Cute, silly, and simple, it's just a joy to experience and should never be hidden from view.

It is very difficult to think of any other game that is compelling, engrossing, and rewarding in the same ways as Return of the Obra Dinn. Put simply, the game is a masterpiece. It is also a shining example of the versatility of the medium of video games and serves as a reminder of the myriad of ways in which games can be entertaining.

Developed by Lucas Pope (of Papers, Please fame), Return of the Obra Dinn places the player in the role of an early 19th Century insurance adjuster tasked with investigating the titular ship, which has returned to British waters after being missing for several years. Once on deck, the player finds there is not a single living soul on board...but must still determine what happened to all sixty of its crew members. Thankfully, the player has received gifts from an unknown benefactor: a book for cataloging the fates of the crew (complete with crew list and artist renditions of the crew members) and a pocket watch, the Memento Mortem. The latter of these items allows the player to examine the body of a dead crew member and be whisked backwards in time to the exact moment of their death. This, and the player’s own investigative abilities, are all that is given to deduce what happened to the crew of the Obra Dinn.

While identifying and determining the fates of sixty unknown crew members seems like a daunting task, Return of the Obra Dinn uses its impressive visual style and unique presentation to make the experience enjoyable and entertaining, without being any less challenging. The entire game itself is presented in 1-bit monochrome (akin to the ancient days of computers) and the deaths of crew members are presented as three-dimensional freeze-frames in which the player can wander about. This makes each fate an interactive diorama that allows for observations of everything that was going on in the moment, usually providing clues to crew members’ identities and roles on the ship. Alongside this, some very well-executed voice-acting and delightful nautical music make every scene feel different and interesting, and really flesh out the atmosphere. Add on top of that a genuinely intriguing mystery and masterfully executed clue-dropping and it creates an incredible and creative “whodunnit”.

Figuring out crew members and their fates is so delightful that by the end it’s a shame that the ship didn’t have a larger crew. In no way does the game hide information in a way that is unfair and, as long as the player pays close attention, figuring out what happened to the crew is never really truly frustrating. This is probably what makes it such an excellent experience; the core of the game is balanced absolutely perfectly. The retro presentation, sound design, and other aesthetics are an added bonus, like beautiful, tasty decorations on an even more exquisite, delicious cake.

As with most delicious things, though, one is often left wanting more, which brings us to the only real downside of Return of the Obra Dinn: the player can only really experience once. After all crew is identified and their fates determined, there’s not really much else that can be done. That being said, it is a fantastic experience without rival.

Return of the Obra Dinn has very easily secured its place as one of my very favorite games of all time. From concept to presentation to execution it is truly fantastic package and one that I heartily recommend. Much like the Obra Dinn itself there is nothing else quite like it and it is most definitely worth investigating.

One of the hardest things to deal with in a video game is when one can so very clearly see how much care, talent, effort, and love was poured into a project while simultaneously observing how poorly a project was executed in the final product. In this review’s predecessor, Amnesia: A Machine for Pigs, it was lamented how there was so much potential that ultimately fell on its face and it is an even greater shame in the case of Layers of Fear: a gorgeous, fatally-flawed, semi-interesting, repetitive game with some incredible ideas and sorely lacking execution.

The game opens during a dark and stormy night, with your character wandering alone in their house, picking up clues as to who they are and what they’re doing there, quickly revealing that you are an artist (specifically a painter) with an incomplete magnum opus. As you work to complete your painting, more and more is revealed about your character’s history and what happened to the people in his life...through jump scares.

As mentioned before, horror and comedy are both very similar in many ways. One trait that the both of them share is that with constant repetition, the desired effect of either terror or hilarity is reduced, eventually becoming either un-frightening or un-funny. Another similarity between the two is that both horror and comedy have “low-hanging fruit”; methods that almost always work but are not terribly inspired. In comedy, it is the ever-enduring fart joke; in horror it is the jump-scare. Both are certain to achieve their desired effect but both are not strong contenders for pure horror and pure comedy, respectively. Especially when used over and over again.

And, sadly, Layers of Fear brings mostly jump-scares to the table, alongside several other tired horror tropes that leave the game feeling toothless and tired by the end. The player is presented with no actual threats, so there is no worry of impeded progress nor is there any feeling of self-preservation: nothing can legitimately hurt or stop you, so there is no reason to fear anything; a very unfortunate circumstance for a horror game. Also, there is no set layout, so the player has no real sense of where they are in the artist’s house or where they are even going (this is presumably to indicate some level of insanity in the player’s character) but without any frame of reference to anything progress just seems tedious. Layers of Fear is basically a haunted house ride, where the rider is never in any real danger, is subjected to some loud noises and spooky imagery with music stings, and is pushed through until it’s time to leave. Add on top of this a narration that, unfortunately, is overacted and makes our artistic protagonist feel like too much of an “avant-garde artiste” and it makes it difficult to get invested in the story this ride wants to tell the player.

That being said, it is one beautiful haunted house ride. For as un-frightening as Layers of Fear is, it is an absolutely gorgeous game. There is some hefty artistic talent here on display and it is almost worth recommending just to see some of the work that the environment artists and set-piece designers have created. There are some truly amazing designs in some of the portions of the game and, to confess, it was want of seeing more of them that led me to finishing the game. Even the non-deranged versions of the environments are delightful to look at and very clearly treated with care and love by the designers and artists who built them. Oddly enough, the game really does feel more like a gallery of work than it does an actual functioning horror game.

Wrapping all of this up together, Layers of Fear unfortunately falls flat as a horror game. Gorgeous as it may be, without being frightening in any real way and without a sympathetic protagonist to convey the story, it comes off as incredibly one-dimensional and dull, no matter how many jump-scares and creepy dolls it throws at the player.

A horror story, like a comedy, is a very difficult piece to nail down and appeal to everyone. What some may find frightening, others find quaint; what some find unnerving, others find silly. However, an important aspect of any story is how entertaining it is, how much it engages the receiver (for screams or for laughs), and if, ultimately, it was an enjoyable experience. Unfortunately for Amnesia: A Machine for Pigs, its story ends up sloppy* and, unable to support the rest of the game in any sensible fashion, leaves one with confusion and dissatisfaction.

It really is a crying shame that Amnesia: A Machine for Pigs falters in the way that it does. Developed by The Chinese Room (of Dear Esther fame) and published by the stellar Frictional Games (Amnesia: The Dark Descent, SOMA), there are a lot of excellent ideas in this game that just never reach any sort of memorable height. The player finds themselves in the control of Oswald Mandus, a gentleman at the turn of the 20th Century. As is the case with Amnesia: The Dark Descent, Mandus awakens in his mansion with no memory of what he has done and, in this particular case, where his children are. All he has to go on are journal pages strewn about his abode, wax cylinder recordings of himself and a guest, and communications on telephones with a mysterious entity leading him further. At the outset of the game, all of this mystery and uncertainty draws the player in considerably. Add on top of this that Mandus’ dwelling appears to be rife with secret passageways and hidden doors, makes it even more intriguing. Oh, and a fleeting glimpse of some sort of beings...possibly human, possibly not, that hoof* it through the halls.

As the player continues throughout the game, and is led deeper into the meat processing facility and steam-filled chambers surrounding and beneath Mandus’ abode, they are given more and more insight into what has happened. However, as the story progresses, it goes a bit too whole-hog* all at once, revealing very early on that something akin to a Frankenstein/The Island of Dr. Moreau double-feature is playing out. On top of that, the fate of Mandus’ children is handled in such a ham-fisted* fashion that the player can already snuffle* out what has happened fairly quickly. So the further the game progresses, the lack of motivation to solve any sort of mystery lessens, as there is little-to-no mystery left for the player to discover. To compound this, the game eventually paints a sympathetic view of the beastly horrors that antagonize you, rendering them not so much as monsters but pitiable piglets* caught in something larger than themselves. This would have worked wonders as an end-game reveal, and is, in my opinion, a delightful concept...but it comes at about two-thirds of the way through the game and has very little to do with the actual climax.

Talking of which, near the end of the game it feels as if the developers began throwing ideas at the wall and seeing what stuck, perhaps in an attempt to make a silk purse out of a sow’s ear.* In a very grounded, scientific, industrial world (in which it is never implied or mentioned that magic or spirituality plays an integral part) the game suddenly shifts tone and incorporates deities, ghosts, souls without form (in an attempt to recreate terrifying “water monster” sequence from Amnesia: The Dark Descent), and future-telling. The majority of this comes at a point where the game appears to have ended...but then continues on, resulting in an end-game that continually drives ideas, that the player is now more than fully aware of, up one’s snout* over and over again, even going so far as to loudly declare “A machine for pigs!” in one of the main antagonist’s squealings*.

As previously stated, it really is a shame that these missteps occurred. The game has a fantastic setting (that appeals particularly to myself as an unabashed Steampunk fan) the voice-work is all incredibly well done, and The Chinese Room does an incredible job at writing dialogue and journal entries, especially in this instance where it’s meant to be from the late 1800’s. From a technical standpoint, the game does fairly well, except for that the nearer one gets to the end the murkier everything becomes, eventually becoming so smoky and blue that the player can barely see what’s going on in the final cinematics. From a gameplay perspective, it’s functional...but that’s about it. Some puzzles are here and there but are more about finding a missing piece of machinery than actual puzzlery. In addition to this, unlike Amnesia: The Dark Descent, there is no sort of sanity that depletes or causes things to go askew. It’s very clearly laid out that Mandus is one pig short of a pork pie* but beyond that doors vanish and visions appear without any sort of foundation beyond giving the player a brief moment of pause.

What’s so unfortunate is that had the story been more put together, perhaps given a slower burn, and been more focused in its climax, I would have heartily recommended Amnesia: A Machine for Pigs, even without the gameplay elements that Amnesia: The Dark Descent championed. As it stands, though, Amnesia: A Machine for Pigs is little more than a runt grunting in the mud*.

*Pig References: 10*

An ongoing discussion within the video game community is what exactly makes a "video game". What separates a game from interactive art? Does a game have to contain challenges and puzzles to actually be considered a game? Whatever your personal feelings on the subject Dear Esther is one of the games that kicked off this debate, as well as ushering in what many call the "Walking Simulator" genre. That all being said, Dear Esther still remains a thoughtful, interesting piece of work.

The player will find themselves on an island, with only the gulls and a narrative voice to keep them company. As they explore the terrain and ruins of civilization upon the island, the narrator reveals more and more about who the player is and how they came to be there. The journey will take the player from the lowest depths of the island and to the tallest heights, gaining more insight into what happened along the way.

The best descriptor that comes to mind when thinking about Dear Esther is probably "interactive poetry." There are no monsters to slay, no puzzles to solve, no lives or high-scores. Just the voice, the scenery, the sounds of the island, and the music, all of which come together to form a rather impressive interactive package. This is certainly not something one should be looking to play if they are wanting something fast-paced and raucous. It is a slow-moving piece, despite only taking about 2 hours to complete. Some of the dialogue delivered by the narrator changes upon different playthroughs, though, to be honest, it's a big enough draw to necessarily play through again.

The original Dear Esther (released in 2008) was a mod for Half-Life 2 (just like The Stanley Parable) and Dear Esther: Landmark Edition is a rebuilt and remastered version in the Unity Engine. Going back and comparing Dear Esther: Landmark Edition to the original, it does surpass its Source Engine predecessor in visuals and sound, even though all of the content is effectively the same.

It is not an experience for everyone (a previous co-worker described it to me as "emo bullsh!t") but I appreciate Dear Esther for using the medium of video games to do something different and be a little more thought-provoking. Even though it did usher in a slew of "walking simulators", I think it still stands out as a noteworthy title in the "Are Video Games Art?" debate, as well as expanding on what games can and cannot be, whatever your personal definition of "video game" may be.