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A Brilliant Game That Doesn't Quite Earn Its Crown
Let's get one thing straight: Resident Evil 4 Remake is a very good game. Maybe even a great one. But the gaming press has been falling over itself to hand it a perfect score, and I think that deserves a second look — because "very good" and "essential" are two very different things. **Where It Absolutely Shines** The gunplay. God, the gunplay. Capcom has tuned the combat loop to a near-perfect frequency, and once you find your rhythm, it becomes genuinely intoxicating. Shooting feels weighty and responsive in a way that few third-person shooters manage. Popping a kneecap, following up with a roundhouse, then pivoting to knife a Ganado reaching for your throat — it flows like a choreographed dance you're improvising in real time. There's a reason you'll find yourself replaying encounters not because you failed, but because you want to feel that again. The weapon upgrade system feeds right into this loop, turning every peseta spent into a small dopamine hit. It's satisfying in the most primal, mechanical sense of the word. **The Setting — Atmospheric, But Oddly Hollow** Here's where I start poking at the wound. A remote Spanish village overrun by a cult sounds compelling on paper, but the more you look at it, the less it holds up. Why Spain, exactly? The setting never earns its geography. The village feels less like a real place and more like a stage dressed in generic "rural European" aesthetics — crumbling stone walls, torches, a castle that feels ripped from a fairy tale rather than Andalusia. The medieval flavor coating everything is visually striking, sure, but it creates a kind of thematic muddiness. You're never quite sure whether you're in turn-of-the-millennium rural Spain or a Halloween haunted house designed by someone who Googled "old Europe." The original got away with this because it leaned into camp. The Remake tries to play it straight, and that contrast between grounded presentation and absurd world-building is a tension it never fully resolves. **Good Game. Not a Must-Play.** And here's my probably unpopular take: Resident Evil 4 Remake is not a must-play. It's an exceptional remake of a beloved classic, but it carries the structural DNA of a twenty-year-old game — and some of that DNA has aged in ways the fresh coat of paint can't fully disguise. The pacing staggers in the mid-game, certain sequences overstay their welcome, and the story remains as gloriously ridiculous as it ever was, which either works for you or it doesn't. If you love the original, this is an absolute treat. If you're a fan of tightly crafted action games, you'll find a lot to admire. But if someone asks me whether they need to play this game in 2024? I'd pause. It's not the genre-defining, generation-shaping experience the discourse suggests. It's a loving, technically impressive reimagining of something that was already great — and that is simultaneously its biggest strength and its ceiling. Play it. Enjoy it. Just don't let the hype convince you that skipping it would be a cultural sin.
The First 30 Minutes Will Leave You Breathless
From the moment the game begins, Resident Evil 3 grabs you by the throat and doesn’t let go. The opening half hour is nothing short of breathtaking — a relentless, heart-pounding introduction that sets a new standard for survival horror pacing. Raccoon City burns around you, Nemesis stalks your every move, and you’re thrust into chaos with barely a moment to catch your breath. ## Jill Valentine: A True Heroine This is Jill’s story, and she absolutely owns it. Capcom delivered a protagonist who isn’t just capable — she’s iconic. Jill Valentine is tough, resourceful, and unapologetically badass without ever feeling one-dimensional. She faces impossible odds with grit and determination, making her one of the most compelling heroines in gaming. Her reimagined design and performance bring new life to a classic character while staying true to what made her legendary in the first place. Resident Evil 3 delivers an intense, cinematic survival horror experience that respects both longtime fans and newcomers. While the campaign may be shorter than some would like, the quality of every moment makes it worthwhile. The stunning visuals, tight gameplay, and unforgettable set pieces create an experience that demands to be played. If you’re looking for a game that delivers non-stop tension and features one of gaming’s greatest heroines at her best — this is it.
A Masterclass in Survival Horror
There's a moment early in Resident Evil 2 when you first hear Mr. X's footsteps echoing through the Raccoon City Police Department. Heavy. Deliberate. Getting closer. You're low on ammo, your inventory is a mess, and you have absolutely no idea where that sound is coming from. This is when it hits you: Capcom didn't just remake a classic. They resurrected it. Twenty years after the original traumatized a generation of PlayStation owners, the 2019 reimagining does something remarkable — it honors every ounce of nostalgia while feeling genuinely fresh. As a direct continuation of the nightmare that began in the Spencer Mansion, this sequel expands the scope dramatically. The virus has spread. The city has fallen. And two unlikely heroes find themselves trapped in a police station that's become a cathedral of horrors. Let's talk about our protagonists. Leon S. Kennedy arrives for his first day as a Raccoon City police officer, and what a first day it turns out to be. He's green, idealistic, maybe a little naive — but watching him grow throughout this ordeal is genuinely compelling. Then there's Claire Redfield, searching for her brother Chris, and honestly? She might be one of the most likeable protagonists in gaming. There's a warmth to her, a determination that never feels forced. When she protects young Sherry Birkin, you feel that maternal instinct. When she faces down monsters twice her size, you believe every second of it. Playing through both campaigns doesn't feel like repetition — it feels like experiencing a tragedy from two equally valid perspectives. What truly elevates this game is its rhythm. Resident Evil 2 understands something crucial: pure action becomes exhausting, pure exploration becomes tedious. Instead, it weaves them together masterfully. One moment you're carefully navigating the RPD's labyrinthine hallways, solving puzzles, finding keys, piecing together what happened here. The next, you're unloading precious shotgun shells into a Licker that dropped from the ceiling. The game never lets you settle into comfort. Resources are scarce enough that every bullet matters, but generous enough that skilled players can fight their way through. It's a tightrope walk, and Capcom never falters. I won't spoil specifics, but this game earns its emotional beats. The relationship between Claire and Sherry builds slowly, authentically, until certain scenes genuinely affect you. There's tragedy woven throughout — in the notes left behind by doomed officers, in characters you meet briefly before losing them, in the sheer weight of a city that was alive just days ago. When the credits rolled on my first playthrough, I sat there for a moment. Not because the game was over, but because it had genuinely moved me. Resident Evil 2 isn't just a great remake. It's a statement of intent. It proves that survival horror, done right, remains one of gaming's most potent experiences. The RE Engine delivers stunning visuals that make every zombie grotesque in the most beautiful way possible. The sound design is immaculate — I still get anxious when I hear that familiar groan. And the gameplay? Tight, tense, and utterly addictive. If you've never experienced this story, you're in for something special. If you played the original back in 1998, prepare to fall in love all over again. This is how you do it. This is survival horror at its absolute finest.
The Military Shooter That Burned the Genre to the Ground
During the peak of modern military shooter fatigue in 2012, Call of Duty and Battlefield dominated the market with power fantasies about heroic soldiers saving the world. Yager Development looked at that landscape and decided to tear it apart. What they created with Spec Ops: The Line is one of the most important and harrowing narratives ever told in gaming. On the surface, it looks like every other third-person cover shooter of its era. You play Captain Martin Walker, leading a three-man Delta Force team into a sandstorm-ravaged Dubai to find Colonel John Konrad and the missing 33rd Infantry Battalion. The mechanics are competent but unremarkable—you take cover, you shoot, you move forward. If you judged this game by its first hour, you might dismiss it as generic and forgettable. That would be a tremendous mistake. This is a slow descent into hell. What begins as a straightforward rescue mission gradually transforms into something deeply disturbing. The horrors you witness escalate methodically, and the game forces you to confront the violence you're committing rather than celebrating it. There are moments here that will stop you cold—scenes that make you set down the controller and question why you're still playing. That discomfort is entirely intentional. The game wants you to feel complicit. It wants you to understand that following orders and pulling triggers has consequences. The narrative draws heavy inspiration from Joseph Conrad's Heart of Darkness and its film adaptation Apocalypse Now, transplanting that journey into the ruins of a luxury city buried under sand. Dubai itself becomes a character—opulent hotels half-swallowed by dunes, shattered glass towers, refugee camps built in abandoned malls. The environmental storytelling is masterful, painting a picture of civilization's collapse through visual details alone. What elevates the experience is the psychological deterioration of Walker and his squad. Early in the game, communication is professional and controlled. As atrocities mount, voices become strained, callouts turn aggressive, executions grow brutal. The loading screen tips shift from gameplay advice to pointed accusations directed at you, the player. The fourth wall doesn't just crack—it shatters completely by the finale. The voice performances deserve special recognition. Nolan North delivers career-best work as Walker, portraying a man whose sanity and morality erode with every chapter. The supporting cast matches his intensity, creating a squad dynamic that feels increasingly fractured and desperate. Some criticized the dissonance between the anti-war narrative and the conventional shooter gameplay, but that tension feels deliberate. The game uses familiar mechanics to lure you into a false sense of comfort before pulling the rug out. You've done these things in a hundred other games without thinking. This one forces you to think. The multiple endings offer no easy resolution, no triumphant victory screen. Every conclusion carries weight and consequence, reflecting the choices you've made and the person Walker has become. This is not a fun game. It's not meant to be. It's a brutal, unflinching examination of violence, heroism, trauma, and the lies we tell ourselves to justify our actions. It uses the language of video games to critique video games themselves. Not everyone will appreciate what it's doing—some players bounced off the generic gameplay before the narrative revealed its depths, and others found the experience too bleak to enjoy. But for those willing to push through the discomfort, Spec Ops: The Line offers something rare: a shooter with something meaningful to say. It's a game that stays with you, that makes you look at the genre differently, that asks uncomfortable questions without providing easy answers. A masterpiece disguised as mediocrity. Essential for anyone who believes games can be more than entertainment.
The Order: 1886 – A Visual Feast That Forgets to Be a Game
The Order: 1886 (2015) is what happens when a studio pours everything into presentation and leaves gameplay as an afterthought. Ready at Dawn, previously known for their excellent PSP God of War titles, set out to create a cinematic showpiece for PlayStation 4. They succeeded in that narrow ambition—but somewhere along the way, they forgot that video games need to be more than just pretty. Let's give credit where it's due: this game is an absolute graphic blender. The alternate-history Victorian London setting is rendered with jaw-dropping fidelity that pushed the PS4 hardware to its limits. Fog rolls through gaslit streets with volumetric authenticity, rain patters against cobblestones and collects in puddles that reflect the glow of nearby lamps, and fabric textures look so realistic you can almost feel the weight of Sir Galahad's coat. Character models feature some of the most detailed faces seen in gaming, with subtle skin imperfections, realistic eye reflections, and hair that moves naturally. The cinematic black bars framing the screen add to the filmic quality, and there are genuinely moments where you forget you're looking at a video game rather than a high-budget film production. Ready at Dawn flexed hard on the visual front, and the results remain impressive years later. The world-building deserves recognition too. The concept of an ancient order of knights who have survived for centuries thanks to Blackwater—a healing substance from the Holy Grail—fighting werewolves and rebels in a steampunk version of London is genuinely fascinating. Historical figures like Nikola Tesla appear as allies, supplying you with inventive weapons that blend Victorian craftsmanship with science fiction imagination. The Thermite Rifle lets you spray magnesium clouds and ignite them. The Arc Gun crackles with electricity. These tools hint at a more creative game lurking beneath the surface, desperate to break free. The problem is everything else. The gameplay is painfully average—a cover shooter that does nothing you haven't seen done better in countless other titles. You move from chest-high wall to chest-high wall, popping up to shoot enemies who seem content to wait patiently for their turn to die. Combat encounters feel rote and mechanical, enemy AI is uninspired, and those promising alternate-history weapons never get the creative level design they deserve. Most firefights could be from any generic third-person shooter of the era. The game also leans heavily on quick-time events and cutscenes, often yanking control away from you just when things get interesting. A werewolf encounter that should be terrifying devolves into pressing buttons at the right moment. Exploration sequences have you slowly walking through environments while characters deliver exposition. The ratio of watching to playing feels fundamentally imbalanced, and when you are playing, the mechanics rarely challenge or surprise you. The story of knights fighting supernatural threats in steampunk London has immense potential, but the narrative stumbles as well. Characters remain underdeveloped despite the lengthy cutscenes dedicated to them. Plot threads are introduced and abandoned without resolution. Twists feel predictable or unearned. And then, just when the story seems to be building toward something grand, it ends—abruptly and without satisfaction. The whole experience clocks in at around six to eight hours, and it feels more like a prologue to a franchise that never materialized than a complete narrative in its own right. The Order: 1886 stands as a cautionary tale about prioritizing spectacle over substance. It's worth experiencing once for its sheer visual achievement and intriguing premise, and if you can find it cheap, there's value in witnessing what was once the cutting edge of graphical fidelity. But don't expect much beneath that gorgeous surface. An average game wrapped in extraordinary clothing—a tech demo dreaming it was an epic.
Prey – A Stunning Masterpiece Lost in Space
Prey (2017) is one of those rare games that deserves far more attention than it ever received. Arkane Studios crafted something truly special here — an immersive sim that respects your intelligence, rewards your curiosity, and delivers an experience that lingers long after the credits roll. The setting alone is breathtaking. Talos I is a retrofuturistic space station that blends art deco elegance with sleek 1960s sci-fi aesthetics, creating an environment that feels both luxurious and deeply unsettling. Every corridor, office, and laboratory tells a story through environmental details – scattered notes, abandoned coffee cups, signs of struggles frozen in time. The attention to detail is staggering, and you'll find yourself simply standing still at times, soaking in the atmosphere of this beautifully doomed place hanging in orbit around the moon. The gameplay is equally stunning in its depth. Arkane gives you a toolbox of abilities and gadgets and then sets you loose to solve problems however you see fit. Need to reach a locked room? You could find the keycode, hack the terminal, transform into a coffee cup and roll through a gap, or blast your way through a window. The freedom is intoxicating and makes every player's journey feel genuinely personal. The Typhon aliens are a genuinely unnerving threat, with the shape-shifting Mimics creating constant paranoia — is that chair actually a chair? The tension never lets up, supported by a haunting score and impeccable sound design. Prey is a stunning achievement in game design. If you appreciate thoughtful, atmospheric experiences that treat you like an intelligent player, this is essential.
Late Shift – A Quick Detour Worth Taking Once
Late Shift (2017) is an interactive movie that puts you in the shoes of a young London parking attendant who gets caught up in a heist gone wrong. It's an FMV experience where your choices shape the narrative across multiple branching paths and endings. The concept is solid, and at around 90 minutes per playthrough, it respects your time. Let's be honest though—the execution is uneven. The acting ranges from passable to unfortunately wooden, with some performances pulling you out of the tension rather than drawing you deeper in. Characters make dramatic declarations that land flat, and emotional beats don't always hit the way they should. It's the kind of acting you might expect from a mid-tier television production rather than something you'd see on the big screen. The story itself is a strange beast. It wants to be a slick crime thriller but often veers into territory that feels contrived or just plain weird. Plot threads appear and disappear, motivations get murky, and some of the twists feel more random than earned. You'll find yourself questioning character decisions that seem to exist only to push the plot forward rather than making logical sense. That said, Late Shift still works as a quick experience. There's something inherently fun about making snap decisions and watching real actors scramble through the consequences. It's a decent palate cleanser between bigger games or a lazy evening distraction. An average game, but sometimes average is enough when you just want to sit back and play director for an hour.
A Beautiful Journey Through the End of the World
RAGE (2011) is id Software's ambitious step into the open-world shooter genre, and while it may not have received the same legendary status as their other titles, it absolutely deserves recognition for what it accomplishes. From the moment you emerge from your underground Ark shelter and step into the wasteland, the world hits you with its sheer visual impact. The landscape is nothing short of brilliant - id Tech 5 rendered a post-apocalyptic earth that feels both desolate and hauntingly beautiful. Sun-scorched canyons stretch toward distant mountains, rusted vehicles litter cracked highways, and abandoned settlements tell silent stories of a civilization that crumbled. There's a painterly quality to the environments that still holds up, with every vista looking like concept art come to life. What really sells the experience is the feeling of actually being in an apocalyptic scene. This isn't just window dressing - the world feels lived-in and dangerous. Bandit clans have carved out territories in the ruins, mutants lurk in dark corners, and the few remaining human settlements cling to survival with desperation in their eyes. The atmosphere is thick with that post-collapse tension where every resource matters and trust is scarce. The gunplay carries id's signature punch, enemies react dynamically to shots, and the vehicular combat adds satisfying variety as you tear across the wasteland. The racing elements and crafting system give you reasons to explore every corner of this ruined world. RAGE may have been overshadowed by other releases of its era, but it remains a good game with stunning artistry and solid shooter fundamentals. A worthy road trip through the end of the world.
DOOM (2016) is a glorious return to hell and a masterclass in what made the original so legendary
There's a moment early in the game when your character - the legendary Doom Slayer - is handed a computer screen full of exposition about the demonic invasion plaguing Mars. He shoves it aside and racks his shotgun. That moment tells you everything you need to know about this game's philosophy: enough talk, time to rip and tear. id Software has crafted pure, unapologetic action here. The game refuses to let you stop moving. Health drops from enemies you've staggered into brutal glory kills, armor spills from chainsaw executions, and ammo is scattered just sparsely enough to keep you dancing through arenas of demons rather than cowering behind cover. The speed of this game is absolutely intoxicating - it brings you into a rush state where reflexes take over and every encounter feels like controlled chaos. And we need to talk about Mick Gordon's soundtrack, because it's nothing short of kickass. Heavy, distorted guitars blend with industrial electronics to create something that sounds like a machine made of rage. The music doesn't just accompany the action - it fuels it. When the bass drops and the demons spawn, your heart rate spikes involuntarily. It's one of the finest shooter soundtracks ever composed. DOOM (2016) reminded the industry that shooters don't need to be slow, tactical, or narrative-heavy to be brilliant. Sometimes you just need speed, spectacle, and a really big gun. Essential for any FPS fan.
Until Dawn: A Slasher You Control
A snowy mountain lodge, a group of friends with too many secrets, and that delicious feeling that everything is about to go horribly wrong—Until Dawn is exactly the kind of interactive horror I’m a sucker for. What I love most is how confidently it commits to being a playable teen slasher. It’s cheesy in the right places, tense when it needs to be, and surprisingly good at making you care about outcomes even when you’re yelling at characters to stop going into the basement. The butterfly effect system gives your choices real weight, and the game is great at making you second-guess yourself after every decision. The cast and performances do a lot of heavy lifting. The characters start off feeling like familiar horror archetypes, but as the night spirals, they gain more texture. I ended up genuinely invested in who made it to sunrise—and who absolutely didn’t. Then there’s the pacing. The early hours feel like a slow burn, building tension with ominous clues and uneasy relationships. And once it ramps up, it really goes for it: twists, reveals, sudden panic, that “oh no, what have I done?” dread that’s perfect for this genre. Gameplay-wise, it’s more cinematic than mechanical. You won’t come here for deep systems or complex action. It’s about choices, exploration, and quick, high-stress moments. For me, that’s exactly what I want from this type of experience: a horror movie where I’m responsible for the worst possible outcomes. **What I really liked** * Great horror-movie vibe with strong atmosphere * Choices that feel meaningful * A fun mix of tension, camp, and genuine surprise * Solid character performances **What you should know** * It’s more interactive story than “traditional game” * The opening is intentionally slow * Some genre tropes are part of the charm **Final thoughts** Until Dawn is a fantastic horror ride and one of the best examples of a cinematic choice-driven game done right. It’s tense, entertaining, and perfect for a dark evening session—especially if you enjoy yelling at the screen while also being deeply emotionally invested in keeping everyone alive.
Sifu – My personal review (loved it … but couldn’t finish it)
I really, really liked Sifu when I played it in 2022 on PS4. The vibe, the combat philosophy, the whole “kung fu revenge movie you control” fantasy—it’s absolutely my kind of thing. But I’ll be honest: I ended up abandoning it because I just couldn’t make it through. It was too challenging for me, and after a certain point the frustration started to outweigh the thrill. What Sifu does brilliantly is make you feel like you’re learning a martial art, not just pressing buttons. The fights are tight and deliberate. Every move has intent. You’re constantly reading posture, timing dodges, choosing between aggression and control. When it clicks, it feels amazing—sharp, stylish, and earned. The aging system is such a cool idea, too. It turns failure into part of the story instead of a simple reset, and it gives each run this extra layer of tension: you’re not just trying to win, you’re trying to win well. Visually, I loved the clean, bold art style and the way each level feels like a distinct set piece from a modern action film. It’s confident, cool, and focused. The whole game just has attitude in the best way. But then… the difficulty wall hit me. I'm fine with tough games, but Sifu demands real mastery. It felt like the game was asking me to become consistent at a level I couldn’t quite reach. I’d make progress, feel proud, then get absolutely dismantled by a boss or a nasty stretch of enemies and watch my run and age spiral. That loop is smart design—because it pushes you to improve—but for me it eventually became exhausting. **What I loved** * Incredibly satisfying, technical combat * A smart, thematic progression system * Strong style and atmosphere * That rare "I'm actually getting better at something" feeling **Why I stopped** * The difficulty felt like a long-term commitment * Progress sometimes came with a side of burnout * I hit a point where I wasn't having fun often enough **Final thoughts** I still think Sifu is an excellent game. It's stylish, disciplined, and genuinely special in how it treats skill and improvement. Even though I couldn’t finish it, I don’t regret the time I spent with it. If you love demanding action games and enjoy the process of mastering a system, Sifu is a killer experience. For me, it was one of those games I admired deeply… even as I quietly admitted defeat and put the controller down.
Virginia – My personal review
I played Virginia on PS4 and ended up liking it a lot. It’s a short, unusual, very stylized narrative experience that feels less like a typical game and more like an interactive film with a strong emotional and atmospheric pulse. You play as Anne Tarver, a new FBI agent assigned to a case involving a missing boy in a small town. From the start, the game leans hard into mystery and surrealism. What really stood out to me is that Virginia tells its story without any dialogue. That sounds risky—and it is—but for me it worked. The game communicates through expressions, editing, music, and symbolism in a way that feels confident and deliberately cinematic. The editing is probably the boldest choice here. Scenes cut sharply, sometimes unexpectedly, like you’re watching a dream stitched together with film grammar instead of gameplay logic. I can see why this might frustrate some players who want everything explained clearly, but I loved the commitment. It made me lean in. I found myself trying to read body language and visual motifs the same way you might when watching something inspired by Twin Peaks or other surreal crime dramas. The music is a huge part of why the game landed for me. It carries emotion and tension so effectively that even quiet moments feel purposeful. Combined with the muted, slightly stylized visuals, it gives the whole experience a very distinct identity. Gameplay-wise, it’s intentionally light. You’re exploring, interacting, moving through scenes—this is not about puzzles or mechanics. And honestly, I was fine with that. The point is the mood, the story beats, the relationship dynamics, and the uneasy sense that something is off beneath the surface. On PS4, it felt like a good fit for a cozy evening session—headphones on, lights low, just letting the vibe take over. It’s also short enough that it doesn’t overstay its welcome. In fact, I think that compact runtime is part of its strength. **What I really liked** * A bold, dialogue-free storytelling approach * Strong cinematic style and confident direction * Excellent music that does a lot of emotional heavy lifting * A mysterious, surreal tone that stays with you **What you should expect** * Very light gameplay * Storytelling that’s more interpretive than literal * An experience that prioritizes mood over clear answers **Final thoughts** Virginia is a compact, stylish, and emotionally driven mystery that takes creative risks—and for me, those risks paid off. If you enjoy atmospheric narrative games and you’re open to a story that unfolds more like a cinematic fever dream than a straightforward crime plot, Virginia on PS4 is absolutely worth the ride.