Trophies: 26 (6 gold 9 silver 10 bronze)
Time to platinum: 5 hours
Platinum name: All Moved In
Achievement rate: 13.8%

2023 has been a disappointingly slow year for platinums, I must admit. After dragging my heels for months with Stray and A Plague Tale: Requiem (to the point that I eventually realized Stray had been removed from PS Plus and I no longer even have access to the game), I shifted focus to Immortals Fenyx Rising… and while the game itself is hugely enjoyable, the grind is admittedly starting to test my sanity (other recent titles, such as Hogwarts Legacy and Jedi Survivor, caused me to tap out on the platinum chase almost immediately).

Thankfully, Unpacking - a title I’d been relatively curious to check out - arrived on PS Plus last month and, as an added bonus, it’s a quick and easy plat. I absolutely adored Witch Beam’s first game, Assault Android Cactus - a turbocharged twin-stick shooter with a cast of adorable pixie androids - but this feels like a step backwards, at least in terms of ambition… one of those “conceptual” pitches that’s light on gameplay but heavy on the pseudo-profundity.

Basically, you move into eight different homes (or “levels”) between 1997 and 2018, where you’re tasked with transferring your worldly possessions from cardboard boxes to shelves, closets, and cabinets. The basic idea is that the simple art of “unpacking” provides a surprising degree of insight into the trajectory of the unnamed female protagonist’s life. Which actually is a rather intriguing concept for a video game. Unfortunately, her life proves almost as boring-ass as mine… she moves into her college dorm, moves into her first apartment, moves in with her boyfriend, moves back home after they break up, etc… etc… it’s not like she’s arriving in Copenhagen to start an astrophysics fellowship.

Many have praised the game for being relaxing and low-stress, given its leisurely rhythm and soothing soundtrack… but, if anything, it just wreaked havoc with my OCD. Most of the time I had to take everything out of the boxes in a given room and scatter it all over the floor first… putting the belongings away one-by-one - without knowing what was coming next - put me on edge to a surprising degree. How can I fold this t-shirt and place it on a shelf when I don’t know how many *other* items of clothing will be forthcoming, or how carefully I’ll need to partition space in the closet?? It doesn’t help that the retro pixel art graphics, while charming in style, often make it difficult to tell what you’re even looking at - I spent a long time assuming a certain device was some sort of rice cooker, until I eventually realized it was a video game console (there are still some random nicknacks I never did figure out - when in doubt, just shove it all under the bed. along with that f#$%ing ukulele our hero never seems to get rid of).  

The actual platinum is incredibly simple… all you have to do is complete the eight levels and a handful of random tasks. “Brilliantly Solved” requires you to form an equation out of refrigerator magnets (1 + 2 = 3 will do the trick… no need to invoke advanced calculus). “Solve a Puzzle” is earned by solving the Rubik’s Cube in your childhood bedroom (and by “solve” I mean you just click on it three or four times). “Electrical Hazard” is earned by placing your toaster in the tub (or alternatively your flat iron in the bathroom sink), while "A Sometimes Food" can be yours if you simply place the cookie jar on the highest shelf. “Baby Builder” requires you to form a tower by stacking a handful of baby blocks (whoops, spoiler - you feel blindsided, I'm sure), while "Fuzzy Friends" tasks you with placing the stuffed pig and stuffed tiger side-by-side. Remembering to flush every toilet in the game (pro tip: there’s two bathrooms on the final level) is about as strenuous as it gets. Well, it's not exactly playing Wolfenstein 2: The New Colossus on "Mein Leben" difficulty. A platinum’s a platinum, but I’d rate my sense of accomplishment around a 0.5 for this one.

Frey: Did I just do that?
Cuff: Well, definitely with my assistance.
Frey: I did not just do that.
Cuff: We did.
Frey: I just moved shit with my mind. 
Cuff: Perhaps our connection has somehow awoken some abilities --
Frey: I just moved shit… with my mind.
Cuff: I just keep hearing “I,” “I,” “I.”
Frey: I just moved shit. With my freakin MIND! Ha ha! Yeah, okay - that is something I do now. I do magic, talk to sentient cuffs, kill jacked-up beasts. You know what? I’ll probably fly next.
Cuff: Now you’re just being ridiculous.
Frey: Oh, that’s too far? Good to know there’s a line.
Cuff: If you could just master these new abilities - with my help, of course --
Frey: Um, did you not just see me take out that gnarly beast?! (notices more enemies incoming) Oh, bring it you mangled monsters!

This (admittedly cheesy) exchange, inevitably caught in the endless conflagration of online console warring, went viral on social media and quickly came to dictate the entire obnoxious discourse surrounding Forspoken, the PS5’s new timed, third-party exclusive. The game was ridiculed as the poster child for obliviously mediocre writing (courtesy of cringey hipsters whose only point of reference is Joss Whedon and the MCU), while Frey (played by the talented English actress Ella Balinska) was viciously dismissed as a millennial brat rendered insufferable by her self-conscious urban edge.​

The criticism was largely performative, of course… perpetuated by a lot of people who like to dish out online snark but had no intention of even playing the game in the first place. Which is too bad, because Forspoken is far better than its tarnished reputation would suggest - carving out its own distinct place in the Playstation ecosystem, even if it falls short of Sony’s more lionized exclusives (its flaws are not insignificant, but they have very little to do with the writing or the performances of its cast - for the record).

When we first meet Frey, she’s a New York native whose orphaned upbringing explains her defiant air of self-sufficiency and the Bronx-sized chip on her shoulder (bonus points - she’s a cat lover whose faithful furball Homer is the one constant in her life). These opening scenes have a surprising degree of melancholy grit… and it’s when Frey is at her most despondent that she’s led, as if by fate, to a mysterious bracelet that immediately transports her to the strange and mystical kingdom of Athia. It’s at this point Frey quickly realizes that a) she can now wield full-blown magic (i.e. “I just moved shit… with my mind”) and b) the bracelet, its curling bands of gold metal now welded around her forearm like a permanent fashion accessory, is actually a sentient intelligence with a haughty British accent (voiced by Jonathan Cake) only she can hear, and who she elects to nickname “Cuff.”​

Athia, it turns out, has been overtaken by a corruptive phenomena known as the Break, which has contaminated the lands and mutated the local wildlife… forcing the surviving populace to shelter in the city of Cipal, which is the only remaining safe haven available to them. Frey learns that Athia was once protected by a quartet of benevolent sorceresses known as the Tantas, each of whom was driven systematically insane by the Break and now operates as a dangerously unstable tyrant. Given her newfound abilities - and the fact that she appears mysteriously immune to the Break’s infective influence - Frey must begrudgingly take down the Tantas one-by-one if she wants any chance of returning home.

In spite of its reported 100-million budget, Forspoken gives the impression of a AAA game that didn’t quite have the benefit of full, across-the-spectrum AAA resources (at least not on the customary level of a first-party Sony exclusive, such as Horizon Forbidden West or The Last of Us Part II, whose every nook and cranny is honed to technical perfection). It’s the reason why each and every strand of Frey’s hair is animated with rippling, windswept brilliance… as she’s left to navigate vast and gapingly empty landscapes populated with maddeningly repetitive enemies. Forspoken is yet another entry in the crowded open-world genre that defaults to a misguided “bigger is better” mindset - its massive map is at least twice - if not three times - larger than it has any realistic need to be. Thankfully, there’s plenty to do. The main story missions only take about 10-12 hours to complete, but you can easily extend your playtime to well over 60 hours with all the side content on offer - which predominately consists of clearing enemies out of various ruins, caves, and settlements… but also includes visiting monuments (most of which involve some sort of platforming challenge), taking photographs to show the kids back in Cipal, completing flashback challenges (essentially scored combat trials), accruing cloaks and necklaces and fingernail designs (!) to enhance your abilities, and tracking down the Tantas’ feline-like familiars (it can be a repetitive churn for completists - does the game really need over fifty monuments? - but these tasks do generate vast amounts of background lore to sift through, if you're so inclined).  ​

The narrative is built on the conventional foundation of a reluctant hero who also happens to be a stranger in a strange land… but the story deepens appreciably as it unfolds, evolving beyond these initial cliches and eventually leading to a pair of major plot twists (one of which you can probably guess within the first five minutes… the other managing to genuinely blindside). Many have complained about Frey’s misanthropic rapport with Cuff, but it’s really just a heightened version of the Buffy/Giles dynamic (headstrong, sarcastically sharp-tongued heroine and her uptight Brit mentor). If there’s any issue, it’s the fact that they didn’t record *nearly* enough dialogue between the two of them - within the first hour, the game is already recycling the same canned exchanges (how many times do you have to listen to Cuff comment on “missing the commotion” in an empty town and Frey quipping “Believe me, you’re plenty of commotion all by yourself”)… after fifty hours, you’re basically primed for a rubber room (though you do at least have the option of minimizing their banter in the settings).

Combat and traversal, meanwhile, are unquestionably Forspoken’s main draw. Frey utilizes a free-flowing form of magical parkour to accelerate across Athia’s sprawling landscapes - from the craggy, lava-scorched rocks of Praenost to the aquatic coastal regions of Avoalet - while also ascending vertical cliff walls and artfully flipping, dodging and pirouetting her way through a nonstop parade of battles. Initially you’re armed only with Frey’s trusty purple “earth-based” magic, but as you take down each Tanta, you absorb her powers and expand your elemental spellset - Tanta Sila gives you access to a flaming melee sword and a slew of fire-based projectiles, while Tanta Olas enables you to unleash wickedly satisfying electrical storms of green lightning. When all is said and done, a fully-powered Frey has over a hundred spells in her repertoire, which results in some insanely flexible and frenetic combat encounters (albeit, as is often the case in games like this, Frey doesn’t actually become fully-powered until the tail-end of the campaign, so as to maintain the basic progression curve). The mutated monsters, corrupted soldiers, and Break-generated “nightmares” the game throws at you aren’t particularly daunting (or visually striking, though the half-decayed bears you encounter are reminiscent of that one particular scene from Annihilation), though if you gather a large enough horde, unleashing level 3 surge magic and filling the screen with an eruption of damage and swirling particle effects is a consistent adrenaline high.        ​

Frey, for what it’s worth, is actually a pretty terrific protagonist… deserving of so much more than the sarcastic reductivism of the “I just moved shit with my mind” memes. Some have dismissed her as unlikeable, but that just reflects a blithe failure to grasp her character arc (she appears abrasive and self-centered initially, but that’s her defense mechanism… she’s never had a sense of belonging, or acceptance, and that’s what she comes to find in Athia). Ella Balinska, who was in Elizabeth Banks’s ill-fated Charlie’s Angels reboot and played the lead in Netflix’s equally ill-fated Resident Evil series, can’t seem to catch a break. She brings humor, charisma and yes - genuine pathos to the role in equally impressive measure (for all the grief, some of the self-aware dialogue is actually quite amusing - such as when Frey declares “Shit, alright - if you’re going to rhyme everything, then just kill me now” after being brought before the rigid, couplet-spouting Tanta Prav). Frey, like so many characters, is very much a mythic hero of destiny, but the game never loses sight of her very real, very raw and very relatable pain. The fact Luminous Productions was effectively scrapped by Square Enix in the wake of lukewarm sales pretty much scuppers any flickering hopes of a franchise… but in a more just world, Frey would be newly minted in the ranks of iconic Playstation heroines alongside the likes of Aloy and Ellie, as opposed to a frustrating target of misguided mockery.

The Callisto Protocol has been marketed as a “spiritual successor” of sorts to Dead Space - the marinaded-in-despair 2008 sci-fi nerve-shredder - but in reality the relationship is a lot more reminiscent of the film Single White Female… so blatantly and aggressively does this debut release from Striking Distance Studios attempt to mimic the much-lauded survival-horror classic at almost every turn (which isn’t entirely scandalous, given that it was directed by Dead Space co-creator Glen Schofield, after all). But while imitation may be the sincerest form of flattery in most walks of life, in the gaming space imitation is, well… mostly just imitation.​

Set in the year 2320, the story follows cargo pilot Jacob Lee (Josh Duhamel) - the sort who’s entirely content to do his job without asking the kind of nosy questions that shouldn’t be asked. When his transport freighter is attacked by a terrorist sect called the Outer Way (led by Karen Fukuhara of The Boys fame), he ends up crashing on Jupiter’s moon Callisto - an otherwise barren rock that houses the notorious Black Iron Prison (not the most imaginative name, but it gets the point across - don’t bother to visit). No sooner has Jacob clambered out of the wreckage than he’s seized by head of security Captain Ferris (Sam Witwer of Days Gone and Star Wars: Force Unleashed), processed as a common prisoner, and unceremoniously shoved in a cell. But Jacob barely has time to dwell on *that* unfortunate turn of events before the prison is plunged into a full-scale, facility-wide biophage crisis that starts mutating his fellow inmates into slavering, raging monstrosities.

The Callisto Protocol is, if nothing else, a terrific looking game - polished with a striking sheen of next-gen visual muscle. The detailed character models and motion-capture performances by its three leads are first rate (if, for some reason, you don’t particularly like Josh Duhamel, well - you’ll get to see the Transformers and Win a Date with Tad Hamilton star die… a lot… in spectacularly gory fashion (seriously - the death animations are almost vindictively over-the-top as Jacob gets his eyes gouged out, his limbs torn off, and his head crushed like an overly ripe watermelon)). It’s an undeniably impressive AAA showcase for a new studio literally shipping its first title… though the cutting-edge presentation tends to mask some rather dated game design, as you’ll mostly be funneled through a parade of linear corridors and spend an inordinate amount of time crawling around vents and squeezing/shimmying through tight spaces. Some of the decisions are downright head-scratchers - the first time one of the phallic-looking bloodworms strikes from out of nowhere, latching onto you and siphoning off a bit of health with an unavoidable attack, it’s a decent jump scare; by the seventh or eighth time, it’s simply cheap and irritating (ditto the oversized grubs lurking obnoxiously in innocent-looking supply chests). ​

It’s also telling that, for a survival horror game, The Callisto Protocol is curiously bereft of tension. It could be that the would-be scares are telegraphed with such clockwork regularity or the enemies simply don’t inspire much of a visceral reaction, but the game rarely produces the sort of moments that were so commonplace in Dead Space… the sort of moments when a hard lump of dread starts to calcify in the pit of one’s stomach, awash in waves of gastric acid. Certain sequences do stand out - such as a high-speed tram ride in which the platform is rapidly swarmed by hostiles from all sides - but these are relatively few and far between. Likewise, the potential creep-out factor of the game’s extended stealth sequence - in which you descend deep into the subterranean bowels of the prison - is undercut by the relative ease with which the visually impaired creatures you encounter can be picked off, virtually without repercussion. The clickers from The Last of Us these suckers definitely ain’t.

Unlike most sequels, which build on the groundwork laid by their predecessors, A Plague Tale: Requiem doesn’t offer a markedly different gaming experience… almost as if Asobo Studio quickly came to the realization that there was only so much potential evolution baked into the core gameplay. The pace and style remain extremely deliberate. Most of the action still revolves around eluding soldiers in large, stealth-based arenas (in which opting for violence is usually more trouble than it’s worth) and manipulating fire and other forms of light in order to navigate the massive swarms of rats that’ll devour Amicia and her companions whole if you so much as put a foot wrong (sometimes the two are even merged, offering an additional layer of challenge/strategic thinking - a carefully-deployed “extinguis" projectile can put out a soldier’s torch, gruesomely sealing his fate in half a heartbeat). An expanded suite of tools and abilities to unlock offer greater flexibility in approach, while combat’s distinctly meatier this time around… though the few sections in which Amicia is tasked with cutting down waves of advancing enemies often feel as if the game is playing against its strengths. Specific skills are directly tied to one’s playstyle (prudence vs aggressive, with opportunism falling somewhere in-between), which does encourage experimentation... even though stealth remains the most advisable course more often than not.​

Where Asobo Studio does strive to raise the bar is technically and narratively. Requiem (even at an increasingly out-of-favor 30 fps) looks fantastic - a genuine tour-de-force of art direction. The majesty and horrors of 14th century France are brought to life in equal measure… the splendors of La Cuna particularly compelling before dream inevitably curdles into nightmare (most horror games are singular in their tonal approach... but it's the moments of genuine happiness and emotional levity that allows A Plague Tale to wound so sharply). But the real processing muscle is flexed in service of the rats, whose disease-ridden reign of terror has been given a significant steroidal boost (if anyone who suffers from musophobia managed to get through the first game, this one will almost certainly leave them a spiritually crippled basket case). Thousands of red-eyed rodents pour onto the screen at any given time and serve as the foundation for some genuinely Naughty Dog-level AAA set pieces… such as when Amicia desperately flees through the streets of Provence as a literal tsunami of rats level the city to its very foundation, buildings and bell towers collapsing all around her as chunks of masonry and debris rain down spectacularly.

Best Performance at the most recent Game Awards was always going to go to Christopher Judge for Kratos in God of War Ragnarok - and not unreasonably - but Charlotte McBurney’s work as Amicia (with a healthy assist from Logan Hannan’s deeply endearing Hugo) is on a whole other level; a vocal portrayal frankly without peer this past year. McBurney infuses the character with such anguish and defiance and rage and sorrow and frustration - but also with a flame of inner hope that flickers and wanes and nearly gutters out, but won’t ever allow itself to be completely extinguished. “I’m Amicia de Rune… and I kneel to NO ONE,” she roars, in a moment that sends shivers reverberating through the controller. Some of the very best gaming experiences of the past decade have reaped the emotional benefits of constructing a campaign around a lead character and an ever-present NPC companion (see: Monkey & Trip in Enslaved; Booker & Elizabeth in Bioshock Infinite; Lee & Clementine in The Walking Dead; Kratos & Atreus in God of War; and of course, Joel & Ellie in The Last of Us)… and the sibling bond between Amicia and Hugo is as potent as any of them. ​

As impressive as A Plague Tale: Requiem is, it’s a difficult game to blitz through… between the methodical nature of the gameplay and the shroud of grim nihilism that hangs over everything - sometimes weighing as heavily as a lead vest. This is not a game one plays casually. Even though the 20-hour campaign is well-paced and tightly packed with narrative ambition, at times you almost wish you were getting slightly *less* bang for your buck… the last of the story’s sixteen chapters in particular is very much the equivalent of an ice pick repeatedly stabbing your heart with the systematic relentlessness of a pneumatic jackhammer. But then most horror games have a fleeting impact, much like the sudden adrenaline spikes they so fondly cultivate and hinge upon. A Plague Tale: Requiem cuts deeper than that. It makes you feel something. It leaves a mark on your soul.

Quentin Tarantino once wrote “There are only two kinds of people in the world, Beatles people and Elvis people. Now Beatles people can like Elvis and Elvis people can like the Beatles, but nobody likes them both equally. Somewhere you have to make a choice. And that choice, tells you who you are.” Likewise, there are two kinds of gamers in the world - those who think the pinnacle of the Saints Row franchise was the semi-grounded Saints Row 2 (which fulfilled the initial promise of an even looser, zanier alternative to the Grand Theft Auto series) and those who think it was the unapologetically over-the-top and almost aggressively silly Saints Row the Third (most seem to agree that Saints Row IV - with its berserk blend of superpowers and space aliens in a Matrix-like computer simulation - probably took things a step too far).​

The new Saints Row reboot is unlikely to pull support from either side. Much of the discourse surrounding its release has been the usual tedious debate over whether the game is too woke (or conversely, not woke enough). There’s no doubt the more outrageous aspects of its personality have been tamped down a bit (no more bludgeoning enemies to death with dildos the size of baseball bats), its edge noticeably dulled, but claims that Volition “bent the knee” by deliberately neutering its own franchise prove breathlessly alarmist. Nonetheless, that just means people have been fixated on the wrong issue, which is the obvious uncertainty over what a 2022 iteration of Saints Row even looks (or plays) like. It's a question that Volition doesn't seem to have an answer to.

As usual, a robust “Boss Factory” (which players have used to reproduce everyone from John Wick to Tommy Shelby from Peaky Blinders) allows you to customize and fine-tune your own lead character. The regular supporting lineup (Gat, Shaundi, Pierce, etc…) has been jettisoned controversially in favor of a new trio of hipster millennials - LARPing numbers-cruncher Eli, routinely shirtless DJ Kevin, and sassy gearhead Neenah - who are perfectly harmless (and, on occasion, almost endearing), even though their mere presence has been denounced as sacrilege by most fans (let’s be honest though - beyond Gat, the  original cast isn’t nearly as iconic as people like to pretend). After you get fired on your very first day working for the private military contractor Marshall Defense Industries, you decide to launch your own criminal empire, setting up shop in an abandoned church and crowning your new outfit “the Saints.” And away we go.​

Saints Row scratches the itch for old-school open-world games, in which you have the freedom to mess around with deliberate, almost aggressive aimlessness (minus any real sense of moral repercussion) within a sprawling cartoon playpen. Contrary to popular belief, it’s not an itch that gets scratched all that much these days - certainly not by the Grand Theft Auto series, which perfected the formula but - for better or for worse - has long since evolved beyond its fundamental essence. Santo Ileso - which is like some fentanyl-laced, funhouse version of Las Vegas, crossed with every tacky Route 66 tourist trap you’ve ever passed, then tossed in a blender with a generous fistful of Southwest seasoning - is a suitably colorful setting and for the first few hours it’s genuinely fun just driving around and taking in the tongue-in-cheek sights (preferably in the “I Dream of Weenie” food truck, which I got way too much of a chuckle out of).

But then much of Saints Row amounts to fun ideas sabotaged by weak execution. One of your side hustles involves heading to various Santo Ileso businesses (Batter Up Donuts, the Snake Oil Saloon, Foxtails strip club) and leaving the equivalent of a scathing Yelp review… but all this does is trigger a generic encounter with one of the city’s designated gangs, no different than any other bullet-riddled skirmish. Joining in on Eli’s LARPing adventures - in which you don cardboard armor and fire foam darts at your enemies - is initially good for a laugh, but the gag wears thin in a hurry… particularly over the course of multiple missions (you can only listen to your character yell "Pew pew!" so many times). Combat is fundamentally sound, and there’s a satisfying “pop” to each fatal headshot - not unlike a watermelon bursting… but your arsenal is surprisingly dull. A basic assortment of pistols and assault rifles, shotguns and melee weapons - though you unlock a handful of special moves as you level up that liven things up just a tad (a flaming punch here, deployment of an antigravity device there - that sort of thing).​

The overriding impression, however, is just how much the game looks and plays like Saints Row the Third - which wouldn’t necessarily be a bad thing… if that iteration weren’t eleven years old, literally dating back an entire console generation to the PS3. It’s a rather shocking lack of innovation (or ambition) on Volition’s part, as if they were paralyzed by the prospect of needing to evolve. Coming off the underwhelming (and poor-selling) Agents of Mayhem, one might have hoped for a more, shall we say… decisive opening salvo on next-gen consoles. Even the soundtrack (which features a few choice selections, such as Naughty By Nature’s “Feel My Flow” and “Cloud Connected” by In Flames) feels a little too reminiscent of the sort of skating and racing titles that populated previous Playstation eras.