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Games of 2025

2025 was a pretty awful year in the life sense, but an oddly great year for games – enough that after five years without, I’ve got a list to share. 

“Oddly great” feels apt when the industry is imploding daily. Studios are dying. Hardware is more expensive than ever. Executives acting like AI slop being everywhere should just be accepted as a rational evolution of the industry.

But there’s still joy to be found in the margins. Plenty of small games and passion projects left a mark on me this year.

Honorable mentions: Cauldron, Dispatch, Expedition 33, the Simpsons mini-season of Fortnite, Idle Inc., Hades 2, Lumines Arise, REMATCH, Tokyo Xtreme Racer.

List in alphabetical order because they’re all good games worth your time.

I’ve always had a love of full-motion video in gaming, and the words “weird FMV game” have perhaps never applied more than they do to Blippo+. You can have that weird sense of discovery as you flip through a list of unfamiliar and slightly foreign TV channels any time! No surprise at all it’s from Panic, a think tank of gaming weirdos previously disguised as a Mac shareware company.

“Extraction shooter” always felt like code for “It’s a shooter, but we added a bunch of Souls-like nonsense to make you hate it”. But Escape from Duckov ticked a lot of boxes – a constant sense of progression, no online PvP to spare me from people who live in the game, and combat easy enough to handle but just sweaty enough to make it fights feel like they have stakes. Price point is great too.

I’ve long appreciated the Animal Crossing series but often wished there was more focus on quality of life and not torturing the player. (YOU CAN STACK FRUIT?!) Someone answered my plea, and weirdly, it was…Sanrio? Hello Kitty Island Adventure is the best Animal Crossing game I’ve ever played.

The Hundred Line –Last Defense Academy– takes an insane conceit – “what if you lived underground but then were transported to a school in an abandoned wasteland constantly attacked by monsters and if you fail to defend it for 100 days humanity ends oh and death isn’t usually permanent anyhow good luck” – and manages to make it about 100x more insane as you work through the plot.

And then (spoilers, I guess?) you finish the game and you travel back in time and now there’s 100 different branching ways to see the story through. I finished the first run in 2025; we’ll see if I have the endurance to find my way through all 100 endings in 2026. (I actually don’t love the combat!)

Kaizen Game Works was responsible for Paradise Killer, one of my favorites from 2020. Their follow-up, Promise Mascot Agency, is not what I expected but exactly what I needed. The best card-battle Burnout-Paradise-adjacent business-management-sim cursed-fetch-quest deviant Yakuza-like you’ll probably ever play.

Q-Up is…well…you kind of flip a coin, it comes up heads, it comes up tails…it’s different every time.

No game had more to say about the state of gaming, of what it even means to play a game anymore, and of the world around those games. Added bonus: soundtrack of the year.

The vibes are immaculate in Skate Story, a thinky little skateboard game from Devolver where you’re just trying to eat the moon, no big deal. A killer soundtrack by Blood Cultures got them into heavy rotation in my Apple Music library just from the demo version.

You’ve chased perfection for as long as you can remember, but the burnout overwhelms you. A strange man tells you it’s okay and perhaps you’d like to make some tea. People come and go.

Wanderstop is beautiful, cozy, reflective and I’m not sure I can bring myself to play it for any length of time because I worry I’m going to break down crying when I do. I’m sure I will get back to Alta and Boro soon, but…again, 2025 was a lot.

Burnout Paradise finally has an heir; for better or for worse, I think it had the baby with Codemaster’s Fuel. But I loved both of those games, so Wreckreation is my ideal open world racing thing. I just hope it finds a player base and survives with the recent dire studio news.

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Best Of Narrated

All Things Pass. Only Vision Persists.

What is the appropriate reaction when you discover your words became a small part of history, and maybe influenced the future, for something you hold dear?


Last Friday on the Giant Beastcast, Dan Ryckert recounted his recent first trip to Sleep No More. (The discussion starts around 48:00.) I appreciated the conversation happening on a gaming podcast because the connection of the Punchdrunk show to gaming concepts has always been part of my worldview. Michael Abbott’s post drawing those parallels was part of what drove me to the show originally. I was so enamored with the execution of this theatre/game hybrid, I named Sleep No More my “Game Of The Year” for 2011 over titles like Bastion and Skyrim. (The piece also included what could be charitably called a walkthrough as well as a list of achievements.)

This morning, with the memories of SNM still dancing in my subconscious, I finally cracked open my copy of The Punchdrunk Encyclopaedia. Published this past December, the book covers the history of Punchdrunk, their projects, and their immersive theatre design concepts in an enjoyable non-linear way. The encyclopedia format, with cross-references between entries and occasional full-page related topics, allows you to wander between concepts like you would an immersive set.

My read was fairly linear, going A-Z and spending time on the concepts I wanted to know more about. And just as I was about to put the book down, at the “References and Further Reading” appendix, my eyes flicked to the corner and grew wide:

Why was I being referenced in the official history of Punchdrunk in any capacity? I quickly fired a text to Kathryn Yu, friend / managing editor of No Proscenium / my original shepherd into the world of immersive theatre.

After some random entry checks, I struck gold on the entry for gaming. With a closer read than my first pass, found this quote:

“We didn’t set out to build work to be like first-person computer games. Instead, as our productions became more intricate and detailed it was a lens through which audiences began to view and compare the work. We recognise that the work offers fully realised realities within which audiences are immersed. Immersion of this depth is addictive and those interested in gaming feel the work offers a physical alternative to gaming. Just as games are played many times over, audiences return again and again to Punchdrunk worlds; with Sleep No More, NYC, an audience member who frequented the production reviewed it as one of his top ten games [see Dickinson 2011].”

– Peter Higgin, Punchdrunk Director of Enrichment

Finding yourself referenced in a book without warning would’ve been enough to weird me out for the day. But then came a text from Kathryn: “I FOUND IT” and a link to a recent Guardian article:

This was a turn I wasn’t prepared for.

But something strange happened after Punchdrunk brought Sleep No More to New York in 2011.

“We had an amazing weird moment when the papers and blogs were doing their round ups of ‘best album of the year’, ‘best film of the year’ and so on,” [Felix] Barrett remembers. “In one of them, Sleep No More got ‘best game of the year’”. The article described the show using gaming vocabulary and vernacular. Its hidden secrets were “Easter eggs,” while discovering a new floor was “levelling up”, and the choice of where to go made it an “open world”.

“When we were described as a video game I started going back to games to find out more about them, to unpack it, and learn more about game mechanics,” says Barrett. He realised while Punchdrunk wasn’t “ever directly inspired by an open-world game”, open worlds give birth to choice, which creates a new way to tell stories – similar to what he was trying to achieve in theatre.

– Alysia Judge, “‘Playable shows are the future’: what Punchdrunk theatre learned from games

Some Googling reveals that I appear to have been the only person who ever declared the show “game of the year”. Which means Felix Barrett read that blog post and considered it an “amazing weird moment”.

Wait, there’s more:

“That crazy space between video games and theatre, I reckon is the next frontier. […] I’m taking literal game mechanics to enter theatre … That’s totally what we’re doing. Asking questions in that space. […] I actually don’t think there’s a vocabulary for it yet. For a while, ‘immersive theatre’ was bandied about, but whatever this new thing is called, playable shows are the future.”

– Felix Barrett

So…Felix Barrett read that blog post, considered it an amazing weird moment, and it may have triggered him down a path of deeper consideration of how to marry game mechanics theater, and that’s what Punchdrunk is working on now?

That’s one hell of a one-on-one.

I lay no claim to originating the idea of comparing immersive theatre to gaming. (Again, Michael Abbott’s post put the idea in my head long before I ever attended.) And I don’t dare believe that my words alone sent Punchdrunk down whatever creative rabbit hole they’re currently exploring.

But there’s something bewitching about my words echoing back seven years later in this way, in the book in my hands and the subhead copy on my screen. To know that I left even a small imprint on the Punchdrunk team, in the subconscious way that their shows did on me, makes me glow a little.

(Felix, Peter – if either of you somehow end up back on this small corner of the internet and read this, I’m not sure what to say except: thank you both.)

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Disliked

Thanks, Ryan

Yesterday, I was heartbroken (as were a hell of a lot of folks) to learn that Ryan Davis, co-founder of Giant Bomb, lover of SUMMER JAMZ and New Balance sneakers, passed away suddenly last week. He was 34 and had gotten married four days prior.

It’s hard to explain what a good, passionate guy Ryan was. I became a huge fan of his largely because of his tireless video project, This Ain’t No Game, where he forced himself to endure every video game-based movie. (If you’ve never watched TANG, now is an excellent time to do so.) His voice and sense of humor pervaded Giant Bomb’s podcast and video work, which became staples of my gaming world over the last five years.

So many people have written about the spot Ryan held in their lives, and it speaks volumes to how beloved he was in a community that largely thrives off snark and bitterness. And while I didn’t know him personally (my only interaction being mumbling something at him at PAX East a few years back about being a big fan), I do have one small fairly dumb story. It’s not dissimilar from my one Steve Jobs anecdote, although it’s not nearly as good.

April 1st is, of course, April Fools Day and/or Internet Asshole Day, full of terrible “pranks” around the internet. (I don’t do April Fools jokes after the prank to end all pranks in 2004.) The gaming community ends up particularly burdened with site owners trying really hard to do something witty and wacky, and it drives most of us up the wall. Including Ryan.

Having just finished Bioshock Infinite, I decided to try my luck at cracking a timely joke, which will (of course) only make sense if you’ve finished Infinite.

It may have been exhaustion from other bad jokes or the fact that Bioshock Infinite jokes hadn’t yet gotten obnoxious (we’d hit that milestone maybe an hour or two later), but it apparently amused Ryan enough to get a retweet out of him. And the subsequent back and forth of further Infinite/April-Fools-Is-Terrible jokes with my compatriot Benjamin Birdie also got retweets from him.

That initial retweet has been stuck at the top of my ThinkUp dashboard since April – something with the recent betas broke the insights from updating, and I’ve been too busy to really sort out fixing it. But perhaps it’s not broken; maybe the accomplishment of making Ryan chuckle on the worst day on the Internet for jokes is an achievement worth holding on to.

Anyway.

Dumb personal Twitter-based anecdotes aside – I’m not sure what the gaming industry will be like without Ryan in it, but I hope he inspires more people in it to be more honest, funny, and actually have a good time. More folks like Ryan, and less Dorito Popes, please.