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?

God of War: Sons of Sparta is a reasonably decent but not particularly great metroidvania spin-off that suffers from an identity crisis. A prequel set when franchise protagonist Kratos and his brother Deimos were coming of age in the Spartan army, Sons of Sparta lacks the over-the-top action spectacle of the other games in the God of War franchise. As a metroidvania it is middling and at times simply awkward, with a dearth of its own original ideas or excellent execution to liven up the genre. The result is a game that feels confused and muddy, despite a few bright spots.

Sons of Sparta takes place across two distinct time periods in the God of War timeline: an adult Kratos telling the story of his adventure to his daughter Calliope, before the tragic events of the first game earned him the nickname the Ghost of Sparta; and the story itself, which takes place when he's a headstrong but duty-bound teenager just starting to make a name for himself in Spartan warrior trials. That tale involves Kratos and Deimos encountering mythical beasts and monsters and cultists as they search for another missing teen, Vasilis. As the story progresses it becomes an interesting look at a foundational time in Kratos' life, though as a side story it does feel removable from the rest of the canon.

At the beginning, though, Kratos is not a very interesting character to follow at this point in his life. He's too rigid and committed to his duties and the rules. He can frequently be overly pious and condescending toward Deimos. The search for Vasilis carries as much weight as a Scooby Doo mystery--you'll get a clue to go towards a location, search around, and then Kratos realizes that he arrived a few minutes or hours too late. Aw shucks, you just missed him, but maybe he left to go here instead. There aren't many twists and turns; it's just following a wandering character around.

I audibly gasped. My small community of Pokemon friends had been steadily growing in the first hour or so of Pokemon Pokopia, and now Professor Tangrowth asked me to build a house and mark it as my own. I could even invite another Pokemon to live there with me, he said. You mean I can have a Squirtle roommate?! I built my new house as quickly as I could and invited Squirtle to come live in it, and he happily agreed. Childhood dream fulfilled.

A few days later, Squirtle told me he wanted to move out.

Heartbroken and with nothing to do to change Squirtle's mind, I pressed on. I was determined to learn more, earn more, and do more, so that, one day, Squirtle will come back. Someday I'll make a new house and I'll invite Squirtle to live with me again. Maybe he just wanted his own bedroom? Admittedly, the leaf hut is not a lot of space. Maybe he didn't like my decor at the time--a few items I had arranged slapdash to fulfill the housing requirements.

The Resident Evil series has a long history of struggling to find the right balance of horror and action, sometimes becoming massively successful and influential in either genre, and sometimes completely faceplanting after leaning too far one way. Resident Evil Requiem, the ninth mainline game in the series, sees Capcom dialing in the combination of those elements better than ever, though in a somewhat inelegant way. Rather than try to blend different elements of two different genres into a single experience, it just staples together two distinct experiences that each capture the best parts of Resident Evil--to the point where it is almost two separate games running in parallel.

One game is a slow, frightening, gory haunted house story following an everyday person as its protagonist, hewing close to the horror-first approach of Resident Evil 7: Biohazard. The other is a fast-paced, panic-inducing experience starring an action-hero badass that draws directly from Resident Evil 4. Requiem even lets you set different points of view for the separate protagonists, recommending RE7's first-person approach for horror and RE4's third-person camera for action, though you can use either for both.

Disparate as they may be, though, both halves are extremely compelling. Requiem feels like Resident Evil's developers, for the most part, recognizing what they do well and leaning in all the way. The result is a game that's unwilling to leave the track set by its predecessors, but one that still provides an intense, often exciting ride.

Who knew that adding a skateboard to a first-person shooter would make for a better game? It's an unconventional approach, for sure, but developer Squanch Games isn't exactly known for following conventions. If 2022's High On Life was Metroid Prime by way of Rick and Morty, then High On Life 2 looks to Ratchet & Clank, Sunset Overdrive, and Tony Hawk's Pro Skater for new ingredients to add to its eclectic mixture. The end result is an improved sequel--absolutely bursting with creativity and out-of-the-box ideas--that nonetheless suffers from a few familiar shortcomings.

Like the first game, High On Life 2 plops you into the space boots of a silent and nameless protagonist, complete with an arsenal of talking alien weapons. The story setup is much the same, too, except instead of hunting down an extraterrestrial drug cartel that wants to turn humans into a narcotic, you're killing off the celebrity propagandists, financiers, and scientists behind an extraterrestrial pharmaceutical company that wants to turn humans into a narcotic (one with much better branding than the drug from the first game).

You're also on the wrong side of the law this time around, swapping your role as a bounty hunter for that of a rogue assassin, illegally murdering your way across the galaxy. The nearly identical setup is an odd choice, but your wanted status makes for some interesting deviations, and the pivot to Big Pharma as an antagonist sharpens the anticapitalist satire.