In my restless dreams, I see that town. I see its fog-drenched foothills and derelict buildings. I see its dead-end alleys and blank-faced inhabitants. And though it's not the same haunt that ensnared Harry, Heather, James, and the others--the same town that’s siren song broke many a man while simultaneously building one of the most iconic horror game franchises in existence--Silent Hill f's Ebisugaoka is still a place that demands your attention; a place that, once you're there, you never truly leave. Or perhaps more aptly, it never leaves you.

The same can be said for Silent Hill f itself. Although the game distances itself from previous entries in the series--most notably by trading in its Lynchian-meets-Boschian ambience and small-town America setting in favor of slow-burning Japanese horror and the humid foothills of Honshu--its overall experience is every bit as memorable as those offered by its predecessors. And yet Silent Hill f is not merely a somewhat-divergent continuation of a beloved series; it's an evolution, offering several gameplay improvements while also paving a new path forward. With its brilliant writing, well-designed and strategic gameplay, engaging combat, and spectacular visuals, Silent Hill f firmly establishes itself as a phenomenal work of psychological horror and among the best entries in the Silent Hill series.

Though Silent Hill f's setting is, to be cliche, very nearly a character in itself, at the center of the game's story is Shimizu Hinako, a young high school student who is violently thrust into a disturbing version of her hometown. In the game's opening moments, it's made clear that Hinako's relationships are rife with tension. As a young woman growing up during the late 1960s, much of this tension stems from her resistance towards being a "proper" young woman, much to her parents' dismay. In her journal, she writes that her father is the very definition of a patriarchal husband--demanding, severe, and domineering--while her mother is passive to the point of cowardice. For a long time, Hinako's older sister, Junko, was the only person she could rely on for companionship and protection. This changed, however, once she got married and left home, leaving Hinako alone and drowning in resentment.

It wouldn't seem to make sense to call Dying Light: The Beast a more grounded game than its predecessors. It's a game in which you routinely shift into something like X-Men's Wolverine, slashing at the undead with the ferocity of a preying mountain lion and carving them to shreds with what is basically an instant win button. But beyond the feature that informs the game's title, this expansion turned standalone sequel actually leans further into horror and survival than anything in the series, making it the most fun I've had with Dying Light to date.

Dying Light: The Beast returns the game's original protagonist, Kyle Crane, to the starring role, moving him to Castor Woods, a brand-new location for the series, and a lush nature reserve decorated with once-gorgeous villages that manage to feel both ornate and rustic at the same time. Like before, the game is an open-world first-person zombie game with a significant emphasis on death-defying parkour and brutal melee combat. But The Beast adds (or returns) a few other wrinkles, too.

For one, guns are more prevalent than ever this time, though ammo isn't as common. Using guns feels reliable enough but doesn't fill your Beast Mode meter, so I frequently rejected this quasi-new toy in favor of the series' long-held favorites: baseball bats, machetes, and loose pipes fitted with elemental add-ons that light the zombies on fire, send electric shocks through the hordes, or cause them to bleed out between my crunchy swings to their squishy heads.

As a dyed-in-the-wool Nintendo Kid, Mario has always been the yardstick by which I measure competitors. When Sonic the Hedgehog broke out on the Sega Genesis, I couldn't help but compare it to Mario's platforming to measure the similarities and differences. So I have to admit that it's difficult to approach an arcade kart racer like Sonic Racing: CrossWorlds without Mario Kart in the back of my head--especially since that series just had a new entry this summer. But it's that contrast that really makes CrossWorlds stand out in some positive ways. Whereas Nintendo's latest racer excelled due to its simplicity, CrossWorlds offers a massive wealth of options and customization to help you find and craft your own style. There is a lot going on, and it can be a little overwhelming, but ultimately the level of depth rewards experimentation.

From the start, Sonic Racing: CrossWorlds offers three main offline modes, two of which need little introduction: Grand Prix and Time Trials are your tried-and-true staples, and then there's the more inventive Race Park. More on that in a bit. Grand Prix is where most players will start, with a suite of seven Grand Prix to master. These are listed as three races apiece, but each one also consists of a fourth grand finale race that remixes parts of the three prior tracks.

And that's where CrossWorlds gets its unique twist, as well as its name. Seemingly inspired by the Sonic the Hedgehog movies, in which rings act as portals to other planets, the tracks in Sonic Racing: CrossWorlds are not just straightforward point-A-to-point-B affairs. Instead you'll regularly cross a threshold through a giant ring and into a new world. The race leader chooses a destination, between one known option or another random selection. You hop into another world to visit for a little while, and then portal your way back to the main track you were in.

Trails in the Sky 1st Chapter finally addresses a major dilemma for newcomers considering getting into Falcom's epic industrial fantasy saga. While the Trails series has consisted of different arcs set in different parts of the continent of Zemuria that you could start from, when its overarching storyline and continuity spans titles released over two decades, where better to begin than the very first chapter?

Trails in the Sky 1st Chapter successfully remakes the game and brings it in line with the standards of a Trails game in 2025, while preserving its original story. This is not a bloated reimagining--Trails titles have already been well-regarded for having a wealth of text, so it's not like a remake would benefit from more fleshing out--but sticks to all of the original story beats, along with a revised localization that's also closer in style to the Japanese text. There are some new lines too, mostly to fill the silences during exploration, but still not quite the same undertaking of localizing a new script from scratch, which is usually why previous Trails games have taken longer to reach the West.

Just like the original, 1st Chapter begins with 11 year-old Estelle waiting for her father Cassius to arrive home, only to find he's brought with him an injured orphaned boy named Joshua who's also her age. Fast-forwarding five years later, he's part of the family and the pair are following in their father's footsteps to become bracers: heroic warriors serving and protecting their communities by exterminating dangerous monsters and helping with odd jobs. But besides going from town to town in the kingdom of Liberl and doing good deeds to increase their bracer rank, Estelle and Joshua become embroiled in one mystery after another, from political corruption to kidnappings, culminating in a vast conspiracy beyond what they could have imagined.

Assassin's Creed has long focused each of its stories on a central theme. Almost every aspect of Odyssey's main campaign and dozens of side quests deal with legacy, for example, while Valhalla's lengthy story largely centers around fate. Assassin's Creed Shadows is far less defined, with protagonists Naoe and Yasuke's journey across 16th-century Japan primarily being about found family, but delving into revenge and honor as well. Thematically, it's been the weakest narrative theme of the larger, more RPG-focused Assassin's Creed games, muddied by the main story's aimless second act.

Those same problems persist in Shadows' first major story-driven expansion, Claws of Awaji. And while a few changes to the cat-and-mouse formula of pursuing and eliminating targets do make for a more engaging gameplay loop, the persisting narrative issues leave the ending to the DLC, and Naoe's arc specifically, feeling barebones.

Claws of Awaji takes place after the events of Shadows' main story. So if you haven't finished Shadows' campaign and don't want to be spoiled, turn back.