There's something timelessly scary about cornfields. Their impenetrable depth and intimidating height can quickly disorient anyone who stumbles into one, leaving them desperate to find an exit path, and turning a simple field of grain into the setting of a horror story. Villainous Games leans into this universal truth as the centerpiece of its folk horror game, Harvest Hunt. Pitted against a ceaseless monster hellbent on corrupting and consuming a village, it's the game's interlocking systems that make it worthwhile, even when the creature leaves something to be desired.

In Harvest Hunt, you're tasked with amassing enough ambrosia over five-night-long runs to secure your village's immediate future. The deeper you get into a harvest season, the higher the requirements and tougher the tasks may become. The game leans into some light deck-building elements like so many similarly designed games have as of late, but these cards are varied enough--no matter if they're beneficial or detrimental--that they remain interesting after several hours of play.

Played in first-person and presented with stylized visuals that borrow Rare's no-straight-lines approach paired with a rustic but comic-booky layer on top of it all, the mood is strong. A foreboding night sky hangs over the randomly generated farmlands, combining with the plethora of cornstalks, creaky footbridges, and uninviting ponds to form an initially intriguing whole. It's a world that makes you feel unwelcome and disoriented, adding a compelling creepiness to a game with a relatively simple gameplay loop.

Just like the first game, Hades 2 has launched first in early access, allowing developer Supergiant Games to delicately tweak and balance gameplay, as well as add new content before its full launch. Hades 2, however, feels like a complete product right now. With satisfying combat that has far more depth than its predecessor ever managed, it raises the question: what’s left to refine? It's significantly larger than the first game too, with more areas to explore, different routes to take, and a much bigger story to tell. If it wasn't for its (currently) missing ending and a few placeholders here or there, Hades 2 could already emphatically be declared as a brilliant successor to one of the greatest rougelites out there. Hades 2 improves upon its predecessor in every way, making it a masterfully crafted sequel.

Instead of playing as Zagreus again, you play as his sister Melinoe, who was born after the events of the first game. Her family has been lost to the underworld, after the titan Chronos usurps the throne and takes over Hades' domain. Melinoe, saved from the unknown fate of her family, has been raised to realize one simple goal: Death to Chronos. With the help of her mentor, fellow titan Hecate, and a cast of new and returning gods, shades, and all those in between, Hades 2 sets out strongly from the get go with a story that is gripping to watch unfold between runs.

For all of its improvements, Hades 2 doesn't initially look or feel that different. Melinoe moves with the same speed and grace as her brother, albeit with some slight changes. Unlike Zagreus, Melinoe is far less dash happy, with a longer cooldown between each of her evasive bursts of speed that's initially awkward to get used to. This is offset by a greater emphasis on maintaining speed through sprinting, which you engage by holding down the dash button right after executing it. This sprint provides the same degree of damage-avoidance, but feeds into additional offensive options too. And some enemies are designed specifically to punish a reliance on just dashing to encourage a shift in mindset. This sprint can also be upgraded with boons in a similar fashion to your standard attacks, letting your sprint shock foes with Zeus' lighting, or knock back entire groups of them with the powerful waves of Poseidon. This tangible change is a taste of how Hades 2 approaches evolving a strong, established formula by making small, sometimes experimentative, changes that have a profound effect on the way you approach gameplay.

Let's get straight to the (unsurprising) statement: Paper Mario: The Thousand-Year Door for Nintendo Switch is an incredible turn-based RPG that is every bit as charming, witty, and joyful today as it was two decades ago. Much like 2023's Super Mario RPG, Nintendo didn't mess with the formula so this is the game you know and love, only it's prettier, sounds better, and includes several meaningful quality-of-life updates. But whereas Super Mario RPG was quite obviously an old game reborn for a new generation, Paper Mario: The Thousand-Year Door stands toe-to-toe with the best turn-based RPGs of the current console generation.

Considering Paper Mario's bizarre history over the past two decades, newcomers would be forgiven for not knowing what the heck to expect in The Thousand-Year Door. To be blunt, Paper Mario's original identity and soul disappeared in the wake of The Thousand-Year Door. Today, Paper Mario is perhaps best-known as the Mario series that can't seem to pick a genre. But The Thousand-Year Door, much like its N64 predecessor, follows the tradition of Super Mario RPG and is more aligned with the Mario & Luigi series--the now-defunct series that pushed Paper Mario out of the genre--than any of the Paper Mario games that came after it, including The Origami King. And The Thousand-Year Door's Switch version further solidifies its spot at the top of the Mario RPG tier list.

The visual upgrade is more of a fresh coat of paint than a total overhaul. Its storybook aesthetic with pop-up characters and environmental trappings had a timeless quality to it already, but the new widescreen presentation, with its vivid colors and crisp textures, brings memorable locations up to modern standards. The lush flowers and white-petaled trees of Boggly Woods are stunning, Twilight Town's and Creepy Steeple's gloominess is heightened (especially on Switch OLED), and better lighting and shadows make the waters around Keelhaul Key really pop. Environments aren't as richly layered as you'd find in The Origami King, but The Thousand-Year Door is still a beautiful game that could pass for a native Switch title.

When Hellblade: Senua's Sacrifice was released in 2017 it quickly became one of my favorite games of all time. I beat it in one sitting and remember feeling thankful that I had played it in a room dark enough to conceal how much I wept as the credits rolled. As a young woman who had endured abuse and was desperately wrangling with her own mental health and attachment issues, Senua's journey resonated and comforted me in a way no other game ever had. So it might surprise you then, that when I heard Ninja Theory was working on a sequel, I was extremely hesitant.

My biggest concern--particularly after Microsoft purchased Ninja Theory--was that the next entry in the Hellblade series would aim to be one of the massive, AAA experiences that are taking over the games industry, complete with a cluttered mini-map, crafting, side quests, and more. That's not to say these features are inherently bad of course--they do have their place--but to me, this felt at odds with what Hellblade did so well. I didn't want breadth, I wanted the series to maintain its depth; I wanted emotion, art, storytelling, introspection, mythos, terror, and magic. In fact, I was so concerned that the studio would trade in its depth for breadth, I didn't foresee what actually happened.

Rather than expanding its systems and scope, or weaving a story equal parts intimate and mystical, Senua's Sage: Hellblade 2 focuses on vastly improving what its predecessor already did so well: visuals and sound. Hellblade 2 is a marvel to look at. It's gorgeous, cinematic, and hyper-realistic, yet still eerie and ethereal. Its music remains extraordinary, and its sound design is primed to make your skin crawl. And yet, I cannot help but be disappointed by how pared down and shallow its story and gameplay are. While Hellblade 2 might be a sight to behold, its minimal gameplay and muddled narrative prevent it from being a game that has any meaningful impact on me.

I've never really given much thought to the differences between a labyrinth and a maze. That is, until I played Simogo's Lorelei and the Laser Eyes. A labyrinth, as I know now, is a singular path, twisting and turning, constantly changing in direction. It invokes the illusion of feeling lost, despite the fact that its path always leads to a center. A maze, on the other hand, has multiple paths, filled with dead ends, wrong turns, and requires trial and error to reach its end. The former can be a meditative and reflective journey for some, while the latter is a trying experience that requires patience and perseverance to see it through. Despite these differences, Lorelei and the Laser Eyes brings them together through mechanics, themes, and narrative. The result is a gaming experience that masterfully interlocks storytelling with design, making it one of Simogo's finest achievements, and one of the most impressive narrative puzzle games in recent memory.

Lorelei and the Laser Eyes is a psychological horror puzzle game that sent me on a winding journey through a black and white, neon-red-accented hotel, to untangle a mystery that blurred the line between fact and fiction. It is dense with puzzles, heavy on story, but both are interwoven, and that is key to the way it unravels. I was consistently thrown off the path to the truth, led astray in what I perceived as a maze, when in actuality, I was being armed with knowledge that led me through a labyrinth to the game's heart-wrenching conclusion.

With no setup or direction, the game simply begins. You take control of a suave, sunglasses-wearing, 1960s mod-style dressed woman, standing alone in the woods at night, just outside the historic-looking Hotel Letztes Jahr. Like its main character, you are thrown into this world with no knowledge of who or where you are, or why you're there. The goal of the game is to find the truth, as said verbatim in the game's manual, which is found within the world itself as opposed to being accessible by default. This obtuse direction set the tone for the game--foreshadowing that I was going to have to work to understand anything and everything on the journey before me. It pulled me right in, feeding into my natural curiosity and love for mysteries. The discovery of its hidden truths is tracked via a Truth Recovery percentage in the game's menu. It isn't long, though, until you find a letter with a vague and mysterious message signed by Renzo Nero explaining that you were invited to be at this hotel, on this date, in the year 1963.