Saros might be a roguelite, but its definition of a "run" is definitely broader than most. The latest game from developer Housemarque shares plenty of similarities with the studio's previous game, Returnal--both are sci-fi third-person shooters with a bullet-hell tinge--yet Saros takes some bold swings that clearly differentiate the two. By flipping Housemarque's roguelite formula on its head, Saros builds and improves upon its spiritual predecessor in spectacular fashion, seducing you every step of the way with an enthralling marriage of mechanics and story that's not to be missed.

You're given very little to go on as Saros begins. On the planet of Carcosa, communication with the colony ships Echelon I, II, and III has been lost. Echelon IV and its emergency crew are sent to investigate. In addition to a pilot, crew commander, and engineer, the team also includes four armed Enforcers for reconnaissance and security purposes. Protagonist Arjun Devraj is one of these Enforcers, though that number has dwindled to two by the time you take control. With thousands of colonists missing, members of the emergency crew losing their minds, and Arjun able to come back from the dead, you're just as lost as the characters are when it comes to figuring out just what the hell is going on.

What you do know is that the Echelon program was sent to Carcosa by the Soltari corporation due to the presence of Lucenite, a compound with vast energy potential. Soltari is essentially Alien's Weyland-Yutani in all but name, placing Lucenite extraction above all else in the chase for trillion-dollar profits. This creates friction between the crew and those loyal to the company, especially Arjun, who also has personal reasons for being there. He knows someone who was on board Echelon I, so there's an impassioned determination behind his words and actions, even as he struggles to piece together the mysterious circumstances he finds himself in.

Two things can be said of Diablo IV leading up to the release of Lord of Hatred: First and foremost, as a series, Diablo has never been in a better or more promising place. Secondly, the game's first expansion, Vessel of Hatred, was a bit of a letdown following a tremendous first act. With those things in mind, it's safe to say that there are very high expectations for the game's forthcoming expansion. And, if the stakes weren't high enough, Lord of Hatred also carries with it two promises: a first look at the long-teased and highly-awaited land of Skovos, and an epic conclusion to the game's ongoing Hatred Saga--one featuring a major showdown with the Lord of Hatred himself.

Oftentimes, expectations and promises only pave the way for disappointment. Fortunately, that's not the case with Lord of Hatred. Diablo IV's latest expansion triumphs at maintaining the series' momentum while also delivering a powerful gut punch of a third act--one that weaves together years of events and lore to create the series' most-compelling narrative to date. Lord of Hatred offers both a spectacular conclusion to the Hatred Saga and plenty of changes that grant it greater longevity than ever before, including two powerhouse classes, plenty of improvements, and strong endgame content.

Lord of Hatred picks up not long after the events of Vessel of Hatred, which ultimately saw Mephisto take over the body of Akarat--a messiah-like figure in the Diablo universe. Through using Akarat's kindly visage, his own manipulative tactics, and performing "miracles," Mephisto has quickly managed to convince much of Sanctuary's population that he is a force for good--one who possesses the power to not only purify their lands, but their very souls as well. Even the most cunning of warriors find themselves in his thrall, their desperation for a better world ultimately contorting them into gullible disciples. As such, you, The Wanderer, and your faithful companions, Lorath and Neyrelle, come to be viewed as dissenting pariahs. And the fact that a demon's blood flows through your veins certainly doesn't help your case against the fraudulent prophet.

Pokemon's turn-based combat can be best described as an inch wide and a mile deep. Its rock-paper-scissors style is easy to understand, but below the murky surface lies an entirely different game. Moves that may seem useless at first glance take on a different meaning in a competitive setting, where complicated stat spreads are tweaked ever-so-slightly to maximize a Pokemon's efficiency and a constantly evolving meta-game makes it hard to nail down which strategies are viable and which aren't. Toss in over 1,000 unique monsters that can be trained in hundreds of thousands of different ways, and you're left with arguably the most impenetrable competitive video game scene of all time.

For decades, Pokemon's competitive scene was just that: a near-impenetrable experience that requires hundreds of hours--and hundreds of dollars--to keep up with. Pokemon Champions is The Pokemon Company's attempt to bring white-knuckled, competitive battling to the masses. The financial barrier to entry, at least ostensibly, is low thanks to its free-to-play model, and the snappy stat-training mechanics reduce a lot of friction. However, Pokemon Champions lacks the necessary onboarding to captivate a new audience while also giving clear advantages to players who've invested in Pokemon Home. In its current state, Pokemon Champions falls just short of being the be-all and end-all of competitive play that I hoped for.

Despite Pokemon Champions' lackluster onboarding, there are a lot of tutorials. When you first start up the game, you're introduced to a cast of characters who teach you how to battle, obtain Pokemon, and build a team. Assuming you don't skip any dialogue, it takes roughly 30 minutes before you're set loose. From there, you can battle online, train Pokemon, build teams, or continue with supplementary tutorials. I opted to do the latter.

In one of Esoteric Ebb's chambers lies a chest. Above it, a sign: "Not a mimic." Snell, your goblin companion, deduces the most obvious outcome: The sign is the work of some prankster who's hoping to get one over on whichever unsuspecting rube decides to saunter into this secreted away room, ignore the sign, and loot the chest. Mimics are often "chest-shaped" like this--the game's joke, not mine--and seeing as how they are a trick as old as fantasy itself, it doesn't take a genius to piece together how such an encounter might end.

Esoteric Ebb is a lot like the mimic in this scene. It looks and sounds like things it takes the shape of--some more obvious than others--but delights in playing with expectations one might have of it. Just when you think you might have it figured out, it contentedly throws another wrench in your understanding of its tone and aspirations. It's a fun ride. It does not veer wildly off course in the process, but it is a stylistic and colorful detour that is nonetheless a riot worth your time.

In Esoteric Ebb, you are the Cleric, a bumbling idiot and magical savant sent by the magistrate to investigate the absolute hornet's nest that is an explosion of a tea shop in Norvik. The timing couldn't be any worse, since Norvik's constituency is voting on a referendum. Should it stick by the Urth-worshipping Nationalists who've governed and shepherded the city through its founding decades, consequently hardening the attitudes and beliefs that have called its rule into question at this very moment? Should it instead ally itself with the deep-pocketed Freestriders who are clearly strong-arming their way to a victory? Or should the city consider other policies, like the dwarven-born egalitarian platform of Azgalism?