Nintendo seemed slow to react to the evergreen status of Mario Kart 8 Deluxe, a humble Switch port of a Wii U game that surpassed all expectations by becoming the top-selling game on one of its most successful platforms. Mario Kart World, the banner game for the launch of the Switch 2, carries with it the expectation that of course this will be one of the games most associated with the system for its entire lifespan. The challenge was crafting a new game that felt sufficiently suited to carry those expectations. Due to its blend of skillful mechanical tweaks, lovely aesthetics, and a general design philosophy built around delightful surprises, this one will go the distance.

The biggest standout feature of Mario Kart World--the one that its name, identity, and many of its mechanics revolve around--is the world itself. For the first time in the series history the races aren't built as standalone tracks, but rather as part of a large contiguous map. Iconic locations like Bowser's Castle or Moo Moo Meadows are physical locations connected to each other through a series of highways and byways. The Grand Prix cups, the ostensible story campaign of a Mario Kart game, are just routes through this world the same way a real street race will block off a specific route.

Within that context, though, the races themselves are more dynamic than ever. Nintendo has started licensing its properties out for theme park attractions since the release of the last Mario Kart, and it's hard not to notice the roller coaster-like approach to these tracks. Like a well-designed ride, you're consistently confronted with surprises and obstacles that keep things visually interesting and mechanically exciting. A race along the savannah will feature adorably plump animals like a herd of zebra, while a desert area surprises you with the Easter Island-like Tokotoko enemies from Super Mario Land, and another track may fling you into the air or have you navigate choppy waters. It's a treat for longtime Nintendo fans, especially, as the wealth of references goes much deeper than it has before.

As the name implies, Lies of P: Overture is a prequel to the original 2023 souls-like, shedding light on the events that led to the Puppet Frenzy massacre and subsequent collapse of the city of Krat. At its beating, mechanical heart, however, Lies of P's first DLC expansion is a tale of personal tragedy and vengeance. While developer Neowiz hasn't implemented any drastic changes to the game's underlying mechanics in Overture, its storytelling has improved, further building on the atmospheric Belle Epoque-infused world it created as a much darker and more twisted spin on Carlo Collodi's The Adventures of Pinocchio. "Most unfortunately, in the lives of puppets, there is always a 'but' that spoils everything," is a popular quote attributed to the Italian author. In the case of Overture, this is fortunately not the case.

Rather than being a conventional prequel, Overture sees Geppetto's eponymous puppet travel back in time alongside his faithful companion, Gemini. You can access the DLC from Chapter 9 by heading to the Path of the Pilgrim stargazer, but it feels like post-game content in terms of difficulty, providing a sterner test than the base game's final act. After emerging in a snowy forest on the outskirts of Krat, you're challenged almost immediately by a giant, petrified polar bear with a torture cage wrapped around its head. There's no sort of onboarding process if you've been away for a while, but with a moveset combining charges, grab attacks, and rhythmic combos, this angry carnivore is perfect for relearning your parry and dodging skills on the fly.

After the initial confusion surrounding how you ended up in the past, you're eventually hot on the heels of the Legendary Stalker--a mysterious figure who acts as a guide through Krat's final days of grandeur. At roughly 15 hours in length, there's less time to dabble, so Overture's pacing is tight, with the story's circumstances providing a sense of urgency and momentum. There's still intrigue and mystery, but it never drags and remains compelling throughout, even if you could make the argument that too much of the narrative is told through optional notes. While these letters, personal musings, and final words are well-written, it's the evocative imagery that stands out--particularly the macabre exhibitions staged by the game's villain with the corpses he leaves behind.

It's a universal truth that crosses cultural boundaries: Middle school is hard. The awkward early teenage years makes everyone feel self-conscious, like an outsider, whether it's an embarrassing pimple or your arms being permanently locked in a stiff T-pose. To A T, a narrative adventure from Katamari Damacy creator Keita Takahashi, is a sweet-natured fable about growing up and accepting yourself. But while the narrative and world you occupy are cute and quirky, the act of playing never feels as playful as it should.

You play as a created character accompanied by your faithful canine companion, both of whom you grant personalized names at the start. Your arms are permanently stretched outward, stiff as a board, for reasons that you don't fully understand. But you've made the best of it, learning to adapt with special tools like an extra-long spoon to eat your breakfast cereal. You can turn sideways to shimmy your way through doors. And your dog is apparently well-trained enough to help you change clothes or use the bathroom.

Naturally, this quality makes you an outsider. Everything you do is just slightly awkward and harder than it should be, and you're bullied relentlessly by the other kids at your school. The writing is very sharp in capturing both the inherent silliness of schoolyard teasing and the way it can have a real impact on your mental health, making you preoccupied with the taunting even when the bullies aren't around. Your avatar is just a happy, friendly kid who loves his favorite cereal mascot, tries to do well in school and at sports, and just wants to fit in.

The Roundtable Hold has seen better days. There are weeds breaking through cracks in its rotting floorboards, the room in the east wing that Gideon Ofnir once used as an office is now an abandoned mess of dust and clutter, and sunlight is bleeding through a gaping hole in the stone wall where the giant pair of fingers previously resided. It's a familiar space, but one that's also noteworthy for its differences, which feels reflective of Elden Ring Nightreign as a whole. Anyone who's played Elden Ring will recognize Roundtable Hold and enemies like the Bell Bearing Hunter and Ancient Hero of Zamor. Nightreign's combat mechanics are almost identical, too, making it easy to fall into a habitual groove as you roll through attacks and strike back with a vengeance. Elden Ring's DNA is ever-present, but Nightreign is also a game of striking subversions: a From Software game that asks you to play it unconventionally, disregarding meticulous exploration, isolation, and measured combat for a cooperative multiplayer game built on speed and aggression. In many ways, it's the antithesis of what people typically come to From Software games for, and yet somehow, someway, this experimental non-sequel is an absolute triumph.

It all starts with Nightreign's enticing structure. First, you choose the boss you want to fight, then embark on a 35- to 45-minute Expedition that takes place across three in-game days. During the day, you and two teammates (doing multiplayer is the ideal scenario) will quickly explore the land of Limveld, an alternate version of Elden Ring's Limgrave where the topography stays the same but locations and enemies randomly change from one Expedition to the next. Everyone starts at Level 1, so you'll want to kill enemies to accrue runes and level up, as well as find new weapons, tools, and character upgrades to aid you in the battles ahead.

At some point during both the first and second days, a deadly battle-royale-style circle begins closing in, funneling you into a mandatory showdown against a random boss. These bosses are selected from a pool of familiar foes, so there's a lot of variety, but you'll also run into the same few opponents if you're repeating the same Expedition over and over again. If you manage to survive for two days and defeat the boss at the end of Day 2, you'll move onto the third day and square off against the Night Lord you chose to fight at the beginning of the Expedition in what is typically a grandiose, challenging, and ultimately thrilling battle. Whether you win or lose, you'll earn relics that you can equip to provide various advantages in future Expeditions, from adding elemental damage that targets a boss's weakness to improvements to attributes like strength and vigor.

There can be a hypnotic nature to repetitive tasks, and plenty of games have leaned into that to give otherwise humdrum jobs a surprising allure. Deliver At All Costs goes in the opposite direction and transforms the unforgiving tedium and thankless nature of a courier job into an explosive, slapstick adventure. This makes for some fun and brief thrills, but too often Deliver At All Costs falls into repetitive monotony with an overly cyclical format, a dragging story, and unexciting in-game upgrades.

Narratively, Deliver At All Costs has a fantastically intriguing opening. You play as Winston, an extremely gifted engineer who's late on rent, bereft of friends, and prone to outbursts of anger. He sees visions of a strange fox, someone is spying on his apartment, and he's hiding something about his past. It's all very mysterious and strange, and the setup immediately draws you into the story in hopes of uncovering who Winston truly is and what's going on.

The mystique hangs over the first hour of Deliver At All Costs, which sees Winston take a truck-driving job at We Deliver, a courier service. Every delivery forces Winston, and by extension the player, to contend with a new type of challenging cargo, like surprisingly strong balloons making Winston's truck extremely buoyant and prone to soaring over buildings at the smallest bump, or a statue that attracts a flock of seagulls obsessed with carpet bombing the statue with poop.