I'll admit upfront: I missed Another Code (known in North America as Trace Memory) when it first came out on Nintendo DS. Despite voraciously consuming other DS adventure games like Phoenix Wright, Ghost Trick, 999, and original Another Code developer Cing's other title, Hotel Dusk, Another Code just slipped by me. And with the sequel, Another Code R, being a European Wii exclusive, catching up there wasn't easy to do. So when Nintendo announced remakes of the two Another Code games for Switch, I was eager to correct those wrongs and see what the now-sadly-defunct Cing had put together. To my surprise, Recollection is fundamentally different from the originals in a number of ways--all-new visuals and updated puzzles, for example--and these quality of life improvements helped me appreciate the original game's supernatural mysteries.

Another Code Recollection puts you in the role of Ashley, a young girl who tragically lost her mother at a very young age. Haunted by disturbing memories she can't fully recall, Ashley receives an invite to a secluded island to meet with her long-absent father, and a strange-looking portable device called the DAS. On the island, she finds a well-preserved old mansion and a very unusual friend who also shares her lack of memory… but no dad. In the second part of the game, an older Ashley is invited to Lake Juliet for a camping trip that immediately goes south when her bag is pilfered. In the quest to get back her stuff, Ashley discovers the truths and tragedies of a conspiracy in the background of this placid lake.

Within its long history, Prince of Persia has always been better at leading than following. Its original trailblazing release in 1989 set a new standard for fluid animation and death-defying platforming, and the acclaimed Sands of Time was deservedly praised for its innovative parkour-inspired 3D traversal. Series entries that attempt to chase trends like the gritty Warrior Within, on the other hand, have been less than successful. Prince of Persia: The Lost Crown is the series' first attempt at a modernized metroidvania, which could have easily fallen into the category of competent imitators. But with impactful combat, silky platforming, and innovative exploration mechanics, this latest Prince of Persia makes the series a leader in its class once again.

Breaking with tradition, the eponymous prince in this case is not actually the player-character himself. Instead you play as Sargon, the youngest member of the Immortals--a sort of Persian royal guard by way of Avengers-like superheroes. When a member of your clan betrays the order by kidnapping the Prince and taking him to the mysterious and cursed Mount Qaf, the Immortals give chase to rescue him. The setting allows the story to pay homage to Persian mythology like the benevolent god Simurgh, but this is a very stylized take that doesn't seem concerned with meticulously setting itself at any specific point in history. It's a pastiche that blends history and mythology with hyper-stylized visual flourishes inspired by anime and comic books.

Mount Qaf is an elaborate setting for The Lost Crown, encompassing ancient temples, catacombs, royal libraries, caverns, and more. It was once the heart of the kingdom but has fallen into disrepair following the death of the wise King Darius. And as a cursed mountain, the few remaining inhabitants talk as if they are living outside of the sequential flow of time, frequently referencing things that happened either too long ago, or not yet.

I wasn't sold on The Finals after playing my first match. A single game obviously isn't enough time to come to any worthwhile conclusions, but still, after playing through its brief tutorial--which does a poor job of explaining the game's concepts--I initially felt lost and underwhelmed. Fortunately, this feeling didn't last, and after a few more games, The Finals had its hooks dug in deep. As a fan of the Battlefield series, this wasn't much of a surprise; The Finals is a team-based first-person-shooter with an emphasis on destruction and mayhem, developed by Embark Studios, which counts a number of Battlefield alumni among its ranks. The two games aren't at all similar in a broader sense, but Battlefield's DNA is present throughout, from its snappy shooting to its chaotic destruction.

One key difference between The Finals and most other competitive shooters is that it pits multiple teams of three players against each other, either in 3v3v3 or 3v3v3v3 matches. This multi-team setup leads to a consistent stream of dynamic firefights as each squad vies for control of The Finals' all-important cash. You end up fighting the defending team as they desperately try to hold on, while also scrapping with your fellow attackers, contributing to the game's palpable sense of outright bedlam. It's a vibrant and colorful shooter, too, augmenting its over-the-top action with a game-show-infused style, featuring a rambunctious crowd and excitable play-by-play announcers. Think 1987's The Running Man but with frantic gun battles. The controversial implementation of AI voicework is the only sore topic relating to the game's aesthetic. It's not particularly noticeable, but each line is fairly one-note so the AI doesn't have to extend itself, and either way, its use still feels gross.

There are currently two main modes to facilitate all of this chaos. Quick Cash sees three teams battling for possession of a vault filled with money, which must then be taken to a designated Cashout Station to be deposited. It's kind of like a mixture between Capture the Flag and King of the Hill, typically resulting in all three squads converging on one location for an all-out slaughter. Whoever inserts the vault into the Cashout Station starts a timer that'll bank all of the cash when it runs out, but any of the other teams can steal the deposit without resetting the countdown's progress. This quickly establishes a thrilling sense of forward momentum, primarily because it eliminates the possibility of a stalemate and ensures that the action maintains its rapid pace. There are few moments as satisfying as managing to steal the Cashout Point at the last possible second and banking all of the winnings for your team. The only thing that comes close is successfully fighting back the hordes and defending the point for a prolonged period of time as the world comes crashing down around you.

The first time I played Arizona Sunshine 2, I left feeling a bit nauseated, but I soon realized this was due to my time spent away from playing VR games. The second time I played Arizona Sunshine 2, I was quickly overwhelmed by its hordes of undead and left feeling like the game was perhaps unbalanced. By the third time I put on my Quest 3 headset, I'd rediscovered my proverbial sea legs, I'd mastered the art of zombie crowd control, and I enjoyed the game for what it is: an arcadey trek through the apocalypse.

In the VR-exclusive first-person zombie shooter Arizona Sunshine 2, you'll take on the role of the original game's hero for another excursion through an undead hellscape of airports, sewage tunnels, and rooftop parking lots, each of them loaded with ammo and "Freds"--the too-jokey protagonist's word for zombies--in similar quantities. The game's intentions are clear right away: This isn't the sort of game where you'll need to worry about ammo reserves very often. This is a power fantasy, though not without plenty of tension, too.

Arizona Sunshine 2 shines brightest is in those moments when you're tasked with clearing out intimidatingly large hordes of zombies. As mentioned, at first I found this so difficult that I assumed I failed to account for something--a skill move, or a control option, or something. It turns out I just needed a little practice. Like a lot of VR shooters, you can do yourself huge favors by mastering the reload animation. Initially I fumbled around with that mechanic, which caused me to take more than a few bites to the jugular, but it didn't take long before I mowed through undead like a John Wick Halloween spin-off.

Before starting Avatar: Frontiers of Pandora, I was reminded of what I think of when considering any open-world game: Killscreen's review of Fallout 4 by Chris Breault, and the opening line, "Here comes the trashman!" Breault discusses an experience of constantly picking up and covering yourself in the garbage scattered around that game's massive world. It's a description that feels highly applicable to most open-world games--huge, but full of refuse that you spend endless hours picking through and carting around, only to replace it with newer, better garbage. Most open-world games are too concerned with filling their worlds, both literally and metaphorically, with a deluge of needless stuff, and it’s why I find the genre can be off-putting.

It's the fear of that torrent of trash that made Avatar: Frontiers of Pandora surprisingly refreshing and also endearing. Frontiers pushes aside some of the concerns about sifting through heaps of junk and clearing incessant icons from your HUD by keeping your screen clear so you can appreciate its gorgeous vistas and strange creatures, thus encouraging you to take in and understand the world around you. Though it still has a lot of open-world staples, like numerous activities and an expansive crafting system, it manages to incorporate them as systems that enhance an overarching feeling of exploration and discovery, and it never bombards you with them. These elements feel like they're meant to help you experience the world itself, instead of just filling it up with more litter.

Two things make Frontiers of Pandora work: its incredible setting and its alien protagonist. I've never had much more than a passing interest in the Avatar films, but Pandora, the lush alien world on which they take place, is an outstanding location to set a video game. It's an enormous and strange place, filled with alien plants, creatures that glow in darkness, and wildlife that towers over the landscape.