Your first task in Thank Goodness You're Here! is to answer the question, "A'tha from Tarn?" Depending on your response, the game's menus and subtitles will either display in English or the local dialect, changing words like "Options" to "Faff" and "Continue game" to "Keep gu'in." If this rather odd choice hasn't already given it away, Thank Goodness You're Here! is possibly the most quintessentially British game ever made--specifically, northern England and the town of Barnsworth, a fictional town right near the very real town of Barnsley. Developed by Coal Supper--a two-person team who grew up in the post-industrial town--this absurdist comedy "slapformer" is a genuinely hilarious romp. It won't appeal to everyone and can be finished over a few cups of tea, but there aren't many games that have managed to plaster such a huge smile on my face.

The game's mouthful of a title is uttered by a few of the game's characters, including a young fan of Barnsworth's local football club. "Thank Goodness You're Here!" he exclaims as you leap through an open window and into a kitchen adorned with red and white scarves and framed pictures of the team's players. Sitting at the dining table with a cup of dark tea, he pleads with you to procure him some milk. He'd go himself, but he's terribly "milk shy." So off you pop to the local farm, where Bessie the cow requires a bag of chips--wrapped in newspaper, of course--to perk her up before she can produce any milky goodness. The local chip shop, Marge's Chippo, is the place to go, but after recently fixing the deep fat fryer, the queue is far too long and you don't have time to wait. This leads to another trek across town, with more whimsical hijinks abound before you eventually get your hands on that precious, precious milk.

This is the general gist of Thank Goodness You're Here! If it sounds like you're simply running around performing a series of fetch quests, it's actually much more involved than that. You play as a tiny traveling salesman who's arrived in town for a meeting with the mayor. Instead of sitting in the waiting room until they're ready to see you, you decide to venture out into town where the locals are all too eager to give you a series of increasingly odd jobs. As you explore the streets of Barnsworth and help out its wacky denizens, your antics leave an indelible mark on the place, opening up new areas to probe as you're given more and more zany tasks to complete.

Sylvio: Black Waters might be the most under-the-radar third entry in a series I or perhaps even GameSpot has ever reviewed. The ghost-hunting series has been a deeply hidden gem in my mind for many years now, and Black Waters continues its winning streak. It keeps intact the best parts of the previous games while adding some new wrinkles and reviving some mechanics it had previously left behind. Not all of that works in its favor, but its strengths are so notable that it remains one of the year's best horror games.

In Sylvio: Black Waters, you play Juliette, a ghost hunter. In the previous two games, she spent her time in creepy fairgrounds and haunted houses, recording staticky electronic voice phenomena (EVP), and in the sequel, even capturing ghostly images, too. Black Waters makes that the focus once again, although this time, it does so in a setting so peculiar and unpredictable that it gives the game an element of science fiction.

At first, I thought the strange, Mars-like dreamworld, where everything is rust-colored and decorated as though some unseen landscaper is practicing a stream-of-consciousness exercise, would be difficult to get into. It was almost too alien, unlike the more earthly and relatable locales I explored in the earlier games. In those cases, it felt like a place I could in which I could find myself. Black Waters' setting doesn't have that trait, but it doesn't take long for it to reveal its own alluring creepiness.

The First Descendant is a bad video game that's occasionally fun. These fleeting moments of joy speak to the potential of the game's bedrock, where snappy combat ekes out glimpses of delight amidst a torrent of disappointment and frustration. Everything surrounding the game's fast-paced shooting is painfully dull, tedious, and egregiously predatory. The First Descendant is a free-to-play, third-person looter shooter that feels like it was designed to please shareholders rather than the people playing it. It's derivative and soulless, bereft of new ideas outside of the myriad ways it attempts to extract money from its player base. It's a foul example of a game designed around monetization, even in a market saturated with freemium looter shooters.

It doesn't start on good footing, either. The First Descendant's story is convoluted and sterile, but the basic premise places you as one of the titular Descendants--a group of humans with unique abilities passed down to them from their fallen ancestors. You're tasked with fighting for the survival of humanity against an invading alien threat known as the Vulgus, who traveled to the colonized planet of Ingris in search of an infinite energy source.

These interdimensional invaders come in all shapes and sizes, with very little in common regarding their visual design. Some look like gray-skinned humans; others are grotesque creatures with large glowing claws. There are sleek and smooth-edged robots, but also clunky ones, too. Some are made to resemble humanoid lizards, while others are floating orbs that shoot lightning. There's no cohesion or unifying theme to the Vulgus. Even their names range from Greg to something more alien, like Alzaroke.