Luke Puke の最近のレビュー

Would you accept a free ticket to a post-modernist exhibition? If so, I recommend that you play "How Fish Is Made." You will find plenty of material for subjective interpretation in the multiplicity of meanings presented in a playful and absurd manner. Don't let the big red thumbs down above my review deter you from a potentially enjoyable experience. Ignore this review. This review is not for you. Just like the game was not for me.

Going into the game, I expected a narrative-driven atmospheric horror experience, and the game provided exactly that! With a catch but about it later. What matters now is that the game is competently made, and I believe it successfully delivers its intended experience. The experience is not enjoyable; it's tense, oppressive, and evokes stress through having to make a choice without possessing any information about its consequences.

The game offers the player a choice: UP or DOWN? While the outcomes of each option are significantly different, the game intentionally keeps the results of these divergent paths hidden until the player makes his choice in the end. Only after the path, be it UP or DOWN, is taken, does the player become aware of its consequences.

This concept fits really well with the game's setting, visuals, and atmosphere. The player assumes the role of a sardine in a grim location referred to as "a machine" by the game's store page description. Referring to the location as "a machine" is telling, since a machine can roughly be defined as a purposefully constructed system made up of various components that work together to perform a specific task. The game does not tell who constructed the machine or how the main character ended up in it. That's beside the point. The point is, the main character is a raw material used by the machine to perform its task.

The machine is not designed to be welcoming. It is a place of death. Tunnels with rusty metal walls, old leaky metal pipes, metal grate floors... It's all cold metal, metal, metal... Unless it's organic. The journey of a fish through the tunnels will inevitably lead to the fulfillment of the machine's function, be it UP or DOWN. There is no escape from the cold metal tunnels. There is only UP or DOWN.

The main character is not the only fish in the machine. Along his journey, the player will meet other fish, each having to make the same choice between UP and DOWN, and each knowing as little as the player initially. Each fish deals with the circumstances differently. Some are scared and unsure. Some are overly sure for no reason. Some claim superior knowledge but have nothing to back such claims up. Some observe others for guidance, while others do their own thing. The game makes it clear: there is no way of knowing what awaits behind each path. The player is asked to make a decision knowing nothing about its consequences.

In the end, it's not even about the choice. It's about how you, as the player, perform under such uncertainty. The game spells it out directly through one of its characters that the player may interact with shortly before making his choice: "Do you understand yet? This choice that has been given to a worthless critter like you? That is the gift. Not the outcome. Did the uncertainty scare you? Or does it scare you more to know there is no choice for you at all? Then all of this would have been for nothing. But wouldn't it feel better? Don't flatter yourself. This is not about making a decision. This is a test of conviction. Have you strayed from your path? Have you been honest and true to your truth, even to others?"

The player's conviction is tested through dialogue options. Some fish can ask the player what his choice will be. Each time, the player is free to choose between UP and DOWN as they wish. Was the player consistent in his choice? Was he truthful? As much as I am aware, the "test of conviction" is a self-test. The only judge is the player himself. The game does not care. The outcome of the choice is predetermined. The machine will perform its function regardless of the player's behavior. The player can only choose whether the machine will perform UP or DOWN. And that's not much of a choice.

So far, it may sound intriguing. Indeed, if the game were to focus on the journey of a fish navigating a cold and impersonal mechanical world, surrounded by other fish equally uncertain about the consequences of their choices, and ultimately fulfilling the designed tasks of the machinery through their journey, it would elevate the entertainment and value of the game in my view. The tagline "DO FISH FEEL PAIN?" could serve as a compelling starting point for exploring such an experience. Do fish feel pain? Well, fish in the game certainly can feel fear, anxiety, and other human emotions. Logically and empathetically, the answer to the question is "Yes." Even though anthropomorphizing non-human living creatures doesn't necessarily reflect their actual experiences, it can be valuable to take a more sympathetic look at them and be more considerate towards all expressions of the most beautiful phenomenon we call "life."

But the game doesn't focus on answering such questions through the experiences it offers. Instead, it offers post-modernist art installations throughout.

You will see a fish stuck in one of six-pack rings. The fish will refer to the six-pack rings as its "throne." This imagery possibly critiques consumer culture and ocean pollution through absurd and thought-provoking symbolism.

You will see a big fish with a parasitic isopod that replaced the fish's tongue. The player is able to communicate with this isopod. Doing so will activate a singing performance, where the isopod will wear a top hat, wave around a used cotton stick, shake its tail towards the camera, and sing nonsensical text, all the while disturbing footage, such as rotting pig brain time-lapse, playing in the background. I can only assume it's some sort of playful and ironic performance with a message that went beyond my comprehension.

You will see a fish looking at a used condom with a dead fish inside. The observing fish will exclaim: "What did we do to deserve bearing witness to such glory? It... It must mean something. But what? What is it trying to say?" A long monologue then proceeds, in which the fish manically describes its fascination with the used condom with a dead fish inside, how it observed every detail to understand its meaning and message behind it, and other nonsense. This scene possibly serves as an ironic self-critique of post-modernism as an art form that relies on the viewer to come up with their own interpretations and meanings.

You will see many more exhibitions in "How Fish Is Made." As was mentioned at the beginning of this review, you will find plenty of material for subjective interpretation in the multiplicity of meanings presented in a playful and absurd manner.

I am not interested in the subjective interpretation of post-modernist art. I did not enjoy the presence of post-modernist art pieces in the game. I liked the base experience, which is a fish going through a machine. I did not enjoy post-modernist art pieces placed along the journey. In my opinion, these pieces severely diluted the otherwise atmospheric horror experience with a clear message. Unfortunately, the base experience has being diluted to such degree, I could extract it only during writing this review and not the gameplay itself. I feel a bit sad knowing experience I would have enjoyed is there. Hidden under the piles of nonsense, absurd, and vacuous disturbing imagery.

Would you accept a free ticket to a post-modernist exhibition? I would not.

"Alchemist" is a distilled action-adventure. It is only slightly more complex than the genre originator, "Adventure," on Atari 2600. In Alchemist, the player will explore an open location, search for items, figure out their uses to progress, and then test his abilities and understanding of the game's mechanics against a challenging path leading to a tough boss.

The fun of Alchemist lies in exploration and experimentation. The player is free to traverse from screen to screen and uncover new areas. There are no hard-coded limitations or boundaries as to where he can go. However, there are enemies to prevent him from progressing too far without properly equipping the main character. To progress, the player will have to unravel the functions of items he encounters while exploring. There are no explanations, so it's up to him to figure out where to go and the uses of the items he finds. The more proficient he is with the game's mechanics and the more knowledgeable he is about game items, the more freely he can explore the location.

The goal of the game is to find four pieces of "The Spell of Destruction" and cast the spell on "the Warlock." Finding the pieces will require the player to experiment with the found items. Fortunately, the solutions are not obscure to the point of requiring a walkthrough. After finding the pieces, the player has to locate the Warlock, get close to him, and cast the Spell of Destruction. This, however, is easier said than done, as getting to the Warlock requires careful preparation and planning.

The less you know about the game, the better. This game is not so much about using game mechanics, but rather exploring them. Read the game's manual online and dive in!

If you study game design or are a retro games enthusiast, I recommend playing Alchemist to experience the action-adventure genre in its purest form. Seeing a game genre in isolation can teach you a lot about the game mechanics that define it.

I will continue my review with critique and as such I draw a spoiler-line. Reading beyond this point may be detrimential to your experience of Alchemist.

SPOILER LINE

The player can traverse the location in either the Alchemist form or Eagle form, between which he can switch freely, provided he has enough Spell Energy. My first assumption was that the Eagle form is for mobility, whereas the Alchemist form is for functionality. However, this has proven to be wrong, as the Alchemist form is redundant and serves no purpose. Alchemist cannot traverse most of the location, whereas Eagle can go anywhere. In the Eagle form, the player can perform every action, such as picking up items, using spells, and fighting enemies, all while being much more mobile than in the Alchemist form. It's a puzzling design decision to allow the Eagle to perform these actions, rendering the Alchemist useless. The only unique ability of Alchemist is shooting lightning from his hands, but as the next paragraph will showcase, this contributes to nothing.

Based on common gaming conventions, the player would reasonably assume that shooting lightning would be the primary way to fend off enemies. However, after applying this theory into practice, the player will inevitably be disappointed. First of all, the enemies struck by lightning will most likely still be alive. Second, the main character's Spell Energy would be quickly depleted to zero. Having no Spell Energy in the Alchemist is bad news. It takes FIVE MINUTES for Spell Energy to regenerate from "00" to "99". Spell Energy, as the name suggests, is needed to execute spells, including switching to the Eagle form. Keep in mind, the enemy might still be there. And the next room will have enemies too. Enemies also randomly respawn upon the player re-entering the room. At this pace, the player won't see the end of Alchemist until retirement!

You can imagine the feeling of despair that comes after seeing how ineffective the lightning is and how long it takes for Spell Energy to regenerate. If this were how combat worked in Alchemist, the game would be borderline unplayable. However, lightning is nothing but a spoof - a beginner's prank, if you may. The most efficient way of dealing with enemies is to face them. Literally. When the main character touches enemies, they receive damage! Of course, the main character also takes damage in return. The touch between the main character and an enemy is supposed to simulate a "physical fight" (the player has to use his imagination!). As in real life, it's best to come prepared for such occasions.

Around the location, there are weapon-shaped items. Carrying such items allows the player to defeat enemies quicker while receiving less damage. The most powerful weapons can trivialize most enemies. However, violence is not always the answer in Alchemist. The main character can carry only one item at a time. While weapons do allow for more freedom in exploring the location, to progress, the player has to find the four pieces of The Spell of Destruction. As such, the player will have to figure out how to use non-weapon items to progress. The one-item-at-a-time limitation provides interesting decisions for the player: should he keep the weapon and explore more? Should he take the item and return to the base? Or should he return to the base with the weapon, restock his health, and then attempt to pick up the item? Although this mechanic may sound arbitrary, it does provide gameplay depth and contributes to the overall enjoyability.

To further assist the player on his journey, there are "lesser spells" all over the location. The main character can carry one lesser spell at a time, and each spell provides a unique ability. This is a cool concept idea, but again, there is an issue with balancing. One spell has only one use, and it's used purely for progression (it's more of a key than a spell). Among the other three spells, there is a clear winner. See if you can spot it:

• Shield - mitigates all enemy damage for some time. Uses 24 Spell Energy points, lasts 3 seconds.
• Bewitch - freezes all enemies on the screen for some time (enemies can still deal damage). Uses 24 Spell Energy points, lasts 3 seconds.
• Regenerate - exchanges Spell Energy points into Stamina points (stamina = health). Uses 1 Spell Energy point per 1 Stamina point.

Two spells prevent damage to health for a ridiculously short amount of time, one spell generously restores health. There is no competition. Perhaps if there were enemies so tough that they could instantly kill you upon touch, then the Shield spell would be useful. Similarly, if there were enemies that chased the main character or were extremely quick, the Bewitch spell might find some utility. However, as it stands, the Regeneration spell is the best pick for any situation in the game.

There are no "situational" nuances in Alchemist; there are only the best solutions. That's precisely why I stated that the game is not so much about using game mechanics, but rather exploring them. Initially, the player does not have knowledge of what is "the best." This knowledge comes from exploration and experimentation. Moreover, this knowledge is not useless; it is essential to defeat the main boss. If the player goes to face the Warlock with anything less than the best spell and the best weapon, he will perish.

That's why I don't think the imbalance in Alchemist is necessarily a bad thing. Yes, most of the items are junk, but that's the point. It's up to the player to find the gold among them. The only way to discover this (aside from going online and cheating yourself out of fun using walkthroughs) is to explore the entire location, find all the items, and determine which is the best through experimentation.

I had a lot of fun doing exactly that: exploring and experimenting. Finding out how to get the four pieces was also fun and exciting when I finally figured it out.

Alchemist provided me with a tough, but rewarding experience. It was fun!

"Games are objectively unreal in that they do not physically recreate the situations they represent, yet they are subjectively real to the player. The agent that transforms an objectively unreal situation into a subjectively real one is human fantasy. A game creates a fantasy representation, not a scientific model."

Ever since I first encountered it in Chris Crawford's renowned book, "The Art of Computer Game Design," this idea has remained deeply ingrained within me. It shaped my perspective on video games on a fundamental level: I view games as mediums that stimulate fantasy and allow us to engage with its contents through interactivity. No game has ever made Crawford's idea more evident to me than "Slayers X: Terminal Aftermath: Vengeance of the Slayer."

Slayers X evoked a profound sense of nostalgia within me. This nostalgia surpassed the typical feelings one gets from familiar imagery or reminiscent tunes from the good old days. It didn't arise from my senses; rather, it originated deep within my mind.

The game presents itself as a product of the fantasy of a 16 year old teenager from the year 1998. But the contents of the game are not what 16 year old teenagers imagine. In fact, it is antithetical to what they imagine. I am not an alien and I was once a teenager, so I believe I can make such judgement. When I was a teen, I did not imagine secret underground bases under buildings. When I was a teen, I did not imagine myself possessing cool magical superpowers. When I was a teen, my friends and I did not share a power fantasy where each of us had a unique super weapon that we used against the bad guys united under a catchy name, whom only we could stop from destroying the world. In fact, teens actively distance themselves from such "nonsense." It is a part of growing up. Teens' interests change, and they are pressured to adapt their fantasies to something more "realistic" and "adult." Instead of shooting beams of destructive power from their hands that decimate bad guys, teens imagine themselves as hyper-successful geniuses who will change the world, earn a lot of money, excel in some field beyond everyone else, make an important social change, succeed romantically, and engage in other such things. They are still fantasies about being super cool, but their content is adapted to suit the real world rather than engaging with a fantastical one. Teens who cling onto their "childish" fantasies don't socialize well. Their peers are moving forward, rejecting "childishness" in favor of being perceived as "adult." It's okay for a five-year-old to call himself a super mutant ninja turtle who is an unmatched sword master and a hacking genius. When a teen does it, it's better to be a joke. Because if it's not, it will raise eyebrows.

The older people get, the more pragmatic their fantasies become. The more time passes, the more distant wild fantastical imaginings of underground bases, superpowers, space mutant ninjas, cool mega guns, and other whimsical creations of a young mind become. Those fantasies are not completely forgotten, but there is nothing to trigger them to surface in the day-to-day life of an adult.

Unless there is a child around. A child who is completely engrossed in a fantastical play. Children can awaken the dormant fantasies that lie within the hearts of adults. The presence of a playful child can transport us back to a time when our imaginations knew no bounds and our dreams were filled with fantastical possibilities. When we watch a child lost in his play, imagining secret underground bases and pretending to possess extraordinary magical powers, we are reminded of our own youthful wonder. The child's uninhibited belief in the impossible temporarily rekindles a spark within us, reigniting the flames of our long-abandoned fantasies. It's endearing to watch a child play because we are reminded of ourselves.

Slayers X goes beyond watching a child play. It offers an opportunity to actively engage and immerse oneself in the play itself. You are not passively observing a child's fantasy. You are actively engaging with it. You are not watching a child pretend to shoot bad guys called "Psykos" with a chainsaw machine gun named "X100 Rapid Mutilator." It's YOU who shoots them.

In Slayer X, there is no child in between the fantasy and you.

So, what's the fantasy? You shoot members of the Psyko Sindikate with cool guns. This description may feel a little too dry, but that's the point. If you were to ask a child to describe his fantasies, you would get an endless flow of imaginative nonsense that is used to justify the "shoot bad guys with cool guns" play. Describing the fiction of Slayers X is exactly that. Oh, well!

The Psyko Sindikate exploded the main character's apartment, blew up his mom in her car, attacked Slayers X training Dojo, kidnapped his potential girlfriend, and turned her into a murderous werewolf that shoots a rocket launcher, killed his cool Hackblood master mentor Mikey Sikey, captured the town of Boise, and worst of all, stole the Hackblood Talismen from the Steel Sewer (the biggest secret base in the galaxy). The main character, Zane, has to defeat the Psyko Sindikate and find out who is behind Psyko's master plan.

Zane is no regular schmuck: his signature weapon is double pistols, and he was trained to harness the power of the Hackblood energy by Mikey Sikey himself (the first X-Slayer). Besides pistols, Zane is armed with the S-Blade (a melee weapon that can shoot Hackblood energy beams if Zane's Hackblood charge is above 95), the Glass Blasta (a shotgun that shoots glass), Explosive Sewage Launcher (launches explosive sludge cans that are also full of rats), X100 Rapid Mutilator (a chainsaw machine gun that does not use ammo when shot up-close to an enemy and is so powerful it can make Zane fly for some time if he shoots from it directly down), Triple Helix Missile Launcher (a rocket launcher that shoots 3 rockets at the same time), and the Hackblood Talismen (which allows Hackblood masters to shoot Hackblood energy charges from their hands. It also allows them to shoot a super powerful beam that makes Zane fly, causes time to slow down, and decimates any living creature it touches).

Armed to his teeth, Zane will visit numerous secret bases, supermarket, mobile home park, potato festival, sewer, highway, landfill and other cool locations. Locations familiar. Non-stop, Zane will have to blast away Psykos who are stupid enough to stand in his way! As Zane puts it himself: "You mess with Zane?! You got no brain!" (Zane has a lot of cool one-liners, such as "Your grandparents are turds. Literally," "Shove it up your bunghole and smoke it!" "You are lucky I did not kick you in your nards," and other masterfully crafted insults).

That's just the tip of the iceberg. When playing, I frequently caught myself with thoughts like:

"I have to break windows and bottles to get glass ammunition for Glass Blasta"
"Needleheads! Time to use Sewage Launcher!"
"There are too many Psykos! I have no choice: I must use the Hackblood Talismen to decimate them with the Hackblood energy beam!"
"I will shoot werewolves with my triple rocket launcher and then finish off the remaining Psykos with the chainsaw machine gun!"
"The S-Blade has a Hackblood charge"

It's all nonsense. But Slayers X makes this nonsense REAL. When you play the game, you immerse yourself in the fantasy it offers. As such, you engage with its nonsensical terms as if they were reasonable.

The game reminded me of the way I used to engage my imagination. It reminded me how I would spend hours concocting elaborate stories and adventures in my mind. Slayers X tapped into that inner childlike wonder and brought it to life. Zane's fantasy is a fantasy of a child, not a 16 years old teenager. And that's awesome!

Slayers X made my childish fantasies real again. It reminded me of who I used to be. I consider it to be an important experience. Do you think it will be for you?

This game made me feel miserable, disgusted, sadistic, and—I've never thought I'd ever use such a term on myself—violated. It is unpleasant to play this game. It is suffocating. While playing, I wanted nothing more than for this game to end. The only thing that kept me going was the knowledge that it would be over after a certain amount of time: the game explicitly tells the player that its events will last only for seven in-game days. I was counting each second.

Although the game claims that the player will experience "life as a prison guard," you should not be fooled—you are a prisoner. Even though the role of the main character is to enforce order and discipline in a very small prison-like facility, the player is forced to endure the same mind-numbing routine along with the prisoners under his control. Neither the player nor the main character are free; there are no meaningful choices in this game. The game forces the player to follow a routine; a sequence of actions that tolerates no deviation. There are instances when the player may attempt to break out of the sequence. The result of such attempts is always the same: the main character faces death, and the player faces dull repetition. There is no other escape but to end one's own virtual existence by hitting the "Exit" button. When you think about it, you really start to relate to the real-life misery of the prison experience. Play this game if you have any romantic notions about prison life. Being stuck in a prison is not the same as sitting in your room, doing nothing all day, and hanging out with other people. Prison is hell. And this game is not afraid to put you through it.

Although there are no meaningful choices in this game, there is a meaningless, but malicious one: you may choose how much rat poison to put in a prisoner's drink. You can put in between a small mouthful and the entire bottle. To my knowledge, putting anything less than the whole bottle changes absolutely nothing. Putting the whole bottle down kills a prisoner. As you may have guessed, a major sequence-breaker such as the murder of a prisoner does not go unpunished, so, really, there isn't a choice whether to kill or not to kill. But there is a certain element of sadism in being the judge of how much of a deadly concoction to put in the drink of someone you have power over. I'm not exaggerating when I say that putting rat poison in a prisoner's drink is THE MOST FUN you'll have in this game. It is the only thing you have control over.

But sadism does not end there. There is an established punishment routine. The punishment routine consists of hitting a prisoner in the solar plexus, taking him by the neck, forcing his head into a bucket full of excrements produced by the main character, and making the prisoner to drink it empty. This is truly disgusting. At least for the first time. When boredom and misery kick in and the taste for sadism awakens, I personally began looking forward to an excuse to enforce the punishment. Again, there is no choice whether to enforce or not to enforce. It is only if a prisoner has "contraband" (anything but a mattress and a sink) in his cell that the main character tells the misbehaving prisoner to "wait here" and the player is allowed to bring the bucket. Ever read a horrific story describing events that happened in a prison? The one that made you question how a human being can become so cruel and violent? This game demonstrates that, under certain conditions, ANYONE of us can turn into a sadistic monster. Humans strive for positive emotions. Sometimes, the bar for "positivity" falls so low, horrific acts become the only source of pleasure. This is the genius of this game: if you want to "survive" till the end, you have no choice but to derive pleasure from malignant, sadistic acts. It will make you more miserable; it will make you disgusted (unless you are far beyond the point of normality in your day-to-day life). But it will also allow you to tolerate your situation.

The game does not let you go mad with God's complex, though. Don't forget that, in essence, the player is also a prisoner. As such, there is a warden above the player. Besides the main character and the three prisoners, there is Security Guy. Security Guy, in his own words, picked up the unconscious main character in a blizzard and brought him to the prison. For such a "favor," Security Guard asks the main character to take over his duties as a prison guard; thus, making the main character a prison guard himself. Security Guy teaches the player how to play the game on the first in-game day and then only appears in front of the main character's eyes once every morning. However, one should not be fooled: Security Guy is always present. His presence is evident through objects being moved: the punishment bucket being brought to its original place, the prisoners' food trays being taken away, and the main character's lunch box being refilled before he even goes to sleep...

This hidden presence is horrifying once you realize it. But there are less opaque signs of Security Guy being creepy. Actually, "creepy" is a modest word in the given situation. "Perverted, sick in the head, crazy tormentor" would suit better. On the very first day, Security Guy provides the main character with breakfast. After eating the breakfast, he informs the main character that he put laxatives in the food. Putting laxatives in the main character's breakfast allows him to fill the punishment bucket daily. When the main character fills the bucket for the first time, Security Guy simply comments: "Mouthwatering." This comment, along with the arranged punishment routine for prisoners, makes the events that unfold further into the game of little surprise... But not less horrifying to observe.

When I say: "I felt violated," I am not trying to be overly expressive for the sake of adding flare to my language. I genuinely felt as if my personal boundaries were being exceeded by someone I didn't want these boundaries to be exceeded by, and I could do nothing about it except helplessly watch. What was done to the main character was, in a sense, done to me too. Not in a physical sense, thank God, but more emotional. Security Guy comes to the main character's room every night. And every night, he gets more and more emboldened to satisfy his disgusting urges. This inability to resist, or do anything about this fact is horrifying. In these moments, the player is just a disattached observer. Observer, forced to witness heinous deeds committed on his avatar...

Unfortunately for all of us, violations of all kinds happen behind prison walls—horrors scarier than any monster. Security Guy's predatory behavior, his soft talk, and his disgusting violations of the main character, further reinforce the feelings of misery, disgust, and the will for sadism.

Worse of all: there is no escape. Neither for the prisoners nor the main character. Sometimes, I did ask myself: "Why don't prisoners just escape?" Their cell doors are unlocked, they can overpower the main character and Security Guy any time, and they can open any door since every door is unlocked. And I genuinely tormented myself with these questions. Just as the game wanted me to. And in the end, the game gave me answers. The answers, which only made me more miserable. It all made sense. But in doing so, everything I've done became so utterly pointless and depressing, it turned my already negative expectations into cynical nihilism. You would expect a reward for going through hell, but all you get is a "your efforts don't worth even a grain of sand" type of ending. In the end, it doesn't even matter what you have done. It was all part of some sick game. Game, where living envy dead. Game, where you are better off dead.

I recommend this game to everyone, because I believe everyone should at least have a glimpse of the negative experience a real-life prison offers. There is no romance or glamour. There's hell.

My recommendation of this game is limited to people who enjoy playing experimental indie titles. The Dive is not a good horror game, but it is certainly an interesting experience.
Approach it as if you were approaching a bizarre interactive art-house film rather than an indie horror game. The game is cheap and short, but it is rich in emotions.


The game begins with some exposition: there is a submarine sending a distress signal. The submarine most likely belongs to deep-sea miners of a very rare and expensive mineral. The main character is an opportunist who plans to dive, find the submarine, get those minerals, and escape before a proper rescue crew arrives at the distress signal. He arms himself with a speargun and a diving compass.

I love this exposition! In an unfamiliar lower ocean environment where sunlight barely reaches, there is mystery and danger. The main character is an opportunistic scumbag who is ready to rob a submarine in distress for his own selfish gain. It is up to the player to unravel the story. The game immediately had me hooked, and it lasted for precisely one minute and twenty seconds.

The main character dives into the water. The environment is dark and confusing; it's as if the darkness itself envelops the player. The only way to consciously navigate is to follow the compass. The main character informs the player that the goal is to the north. While swimming towards the north, one may notice a group of small, blurry objects moving at a distance. In such an environment, anything unusual is worrisome. However, when looking closer, one may distinguish these objects as a group of small fish. There is tension, and there is relief. After passing the group, one may soon notice a dim red light far ahead. After following this light for some time, submarine outlines begin to emerge from the darkness. That's the goal. There is tension, and there is relief. Several seconds later, a shark attacks the main character. There is surprise; there is annoyance.

Shark attack deep under the water? Sounds scary on paper. An immediate tension nullifier in this game, though. Before the main character reaches the submarine, a shark begins to quickly swim towards him. When it reaches the main character, the shark bites his legs and starts shaking its head left and right, fast. The player has to react and shoot the shark in its eyes with the speargun. And it is very, very hard to do. Shark eyes are small and move from side to side quickly. The player has to hit both eyes within 20 seconds with the speargun, which is not only slow to reload, but shoots projectiles slightly right and down from the cross hair. Needless to say, hitting two small moving targets in under 20 seconds with an inaccurate gun for the first time is nearly impossible. In fact, it will take NUMEROUS attempts to do so.

After each failed attempt, the game restarts at the point right after the initial exposition. So, the player will have to swim back towards the submarine and try to defeat the shark. It takes a minute to swim to the point of the shark attack, and it takes twenty seconds for the shark to kill the main character. So, every attempt costs one minute and twenty seconds of boredom. Given it takes several attempts and a bit of luck to defeat the shark, annoyance may quickly build up after having to swim through darkness again and again and again. The group of fish, the red light, and the submarine outline lose their emotional weight and become checkpoints to measure the distance to the shark: first, you pass the fish, then you see the light, then you see the outline, and then the shark attacks.

Defeating the shark leaves nothing but a bitter taste in the mouth. Tension and the wonder of what will come next are gone, being replaced with annoyance and a slight disappointment. However, these negative emotions reinforced one idea: the player really does not want to die. There is a risk of having to restart the shark attack again, and this prospect is more dreadful than any monster. That's why there's tension when the main character enters the submarine and has to restore the oxygen supply before passing out. However, unlike the tension in the beginning, this tension is not pleasant. The price of failure is too high. So when the main character's vision becomes a gradually decreasing funnel, indicating passing out from a lack of oxygen, there is a genuine fear. When I had to clean an electric board to make the oxygen generator run again, I had only one thought: "I don't want to die."
After restoring the oxygen, the main character passes out anyway. Then he has a very disturbing dream.

The main character dreams about being in a pool. The pool building is styled similarly to liminal space pool artworks: it is mostly lit in cyan colors, the layout makes little sense, rooms are big, and roofs are high. There is a sense of loneliness and melancholy. One may find a glass door leading outside and see that it's a dark winter night outside. I really like this location. There is a sense of peace and sadness about it. The main character informs the player that he has to get dressed. However, instead of clothes, the player will find a knife in a locker. Then, in first-person perspective, the main character cuts off his penis and apparently experiences sexual arousal as a result.

This cutscene is disturbing and shocking. It took me a moment to recover. I was glad for the main character to wake up. Upon awakening, there is a surprise: the crew member, who had appeared unconscious before, has awakened. Despite the main character lying that he is from a rescue crew, the crew member attacks him. Maybe in any other game I would at least have tried to find a peaceful option, but after the previous experiences of annoyance, fear, and shock, I had nothing but anger for the one attacking me. I felt zero remorse for killing this innocent man.

The game ends with the main character feeding the expensive, rare mineral to a huge fish outside the submarine. The reason I mentioned the huge fish only now is because it did not register with me emotionally at all. It is not scary, annoying, shocking, or else. It exists solely to deprive the player of the very thing for which the main character risked his life and the player suffered.
As if that wasn't nihilistic enough, the game solidifies the pointlessness of the whole endeavor by showing the main character getting eaten by a shark jumping out of the water while he is making his escape on a boat. Wow.

To sum up, the experience this game offers is unpleasant. It evokes strong negative emotions. But I like this game for exactly that reason. The game is not good, but it is not bland and boring. It's unique and provocative. Love and effort were put into it. Among sterile cookie-cutter horror games made in Unity or by a corporation, "The Dive" is unique and refreshing.

This game is like a painting by an artist who does not possess impressive technical skills but nevertheless did his best to express a strong emotion or idea: it's not very pretty, but if you give it a chance and look carefully, it will affect you.



Before finishing my critique, I will briefly list the good points about this game I have not yet mentioned:

• Atmosphere Design: very well-executed environments. Lighting and textures are able to create certain moods and emotions. Though, organic models, such as humans and fish, have a lot of room for improvement.

• The Main Character is Unquestionably Evil: There are not many stories that let you look through the eyes of an unarguably bad, screwed-up person. I genuinely felt uncomfortable playing as this guy. However, it fits well with the narrative of the negative emotions the game made me experience: anger, annoyance, loneliness, the sense of pointlessness, and boredom. I would imagine that's exactly how a psychopath would feel on a regular basis. No wonder psychopathy has a strong correlation with criminal behavior!


I enjoyed the game!

Short and sweet. It took me about an hour to complete the game for the first time, and I enjoyed every minute. Project Entertainment System has peculiar gameplay mechanics, which most likely will please an FPS admirer. This said, I would not classify PES as a First-Person Shooter game in the classical sense. Rather, I would classify it as an "action puzzle game with FPS elements."

Although PES features a first-person perspective and the main goal of each level is to eliminate every enemy using firearms, there are certain restrictions and rules that introduce predominant puzzle elements into the action. In order to get a weapon, the player has to hit a living enemy up-close with a scythe (it's impossible to get a weapon otherwise). For example, the player cannot pick up a weapon from the ground). After hitting an enemy, the scythe is immediately replaced with either a pistol or a shotgun, depending on the enemy type. The scythe itself deals no damage to enemies and does not interrupt their attacks. This makes it very risky to get a weapon since receiving one hit from an enemy results in the player's death. Taking this risk is unavoidable, but it can be minimized with an understanding of enemy patterns.

PES features various enemy types with distinct behavioral and projectile patterns. Those patterns play the deciding role in deciding whether to approach a particular enemy type up close in the given situation or try to shoot it from afar. This decision has to be made quite frequently since available weapons feature limited ammunition. Ammunition cannot be replenished nor stored: when a gun is empty, it has to be replaced; there is no way to switch back to the scythe and get an extra gun, for instance. Nevertheless, it's not always advisable to replace the held gun only when it's empty: it may be better to replace the gun when the potential risk related to getting a new one is relatively low (for example, with easy-to-approach enemy types, favorable locations, etc), even though there is some ammo left. It might not always be obvious whether it's riskier to change the weapon now or later, though. Sometimes it takes trial and error to make the most optimal decision.

The game is unforgiving, and making a wrong decision means restarting a whole level from the very beginning. Levels are short, but packed with action. In order to complete a level, an optimal route has to be planned. An optimal route is a collection of decisions regarding weapon replacement, projectile dodging, and enemy elimination that minimizes the risk of getting killed and maximizes the chance of getting to the end of a level. Forming an optimal route from those decisions is like building a map out of puzzle pieces. But even after a route is laid, the risk of getting killed is minimized but by no means low.

The action part of PES is fast and precise. Although enemies are predictable, they are not easy to manage. The game frequently positions various types of enemies together, forcing the player to execute a chain of precise movements and actions in order to survive. Planning an optimal route helps, but the player still has to execute it. It takes fast reactions and precise shooting to do so. But even then, there is a chance of making a mistake, which forces you to abandon the previously established plan and quickly come up with a new one. This happens quite frequently.

For instance, my total playtime for the game at the moment of writing is about five hours. It took me an hour to complete the game. The next four hours were spent attempting to complete the game from beginning to end without dying. So, it took me 4 hours with optimal routes established and practiced to complete the game in 6 minutes. Even then, I had to deviate from established plans quite often.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1_rfR5uFtPQ

All in all, PES has a nice mix of puzzles and action. It is fun to play. Rather than that, the story is only present in text format on the game's Steam Store page, the levels are abstract and theme-based, and the soundtrack is okay. The game's strength is its gameplay; everything else is good enough to complement it, but not more.

On its initial release, Dear Esther sparked heated discussions about its qualification to be considered "a video game." I believe answering whether it is or not for oneself will play the deciding role in whether one will enjoy Dear Esther or will find it boring and frustrating.

If one defines a video game as a virtual set of activities the player may engage with through interactivity, then no, Dear Esther is not a game. One may argue that "walking from point A to point B" may be considered "an activity", but then navigating through a 3D modeling tool may be argued to be "a video game" as well. There are no engaging activities in Dear Esther; the player simply follows predetermined paths and listens to narrations. There are no goals besides reaching the end of a level. There are no mechanics to make reaching this goal entertaining by itself. The player may not interact with the virtual world at all, being able to only navigate through it at a casual walking pace. If one seeks any sort of challenge, Dear Esther will be a disappointment.

If one defines a video game as a medium that aims to deliver experiences, emotions, and thoughts through virtual interactivity, then yes, Dear Esther is a game, and a very masterfully crafted one. Dear Esther may be compared to a poem in the sense that authors use the tools of the medium to intensify particular feelings and ideas. Compared to literature, a video game's toolset is not limited by words alone and may use imagery, sound, and interactivity to reach its goals. The reason I have referred to Dear Esther as "a very masterfully crafted game" is due to how uncannily precise it was able to influence me through these means.

When I listened to Dear Esther's developer's commentary, I was shocked to find that my emotions and thoughts were heavily manipulated by the developers. It was continuously mind-blowing to hear developers say: "At this spot, we wanted the player to feel and think this way, and for that, we used these tools," and to find that's exactly how I felt and thought on my previous walkthrough. Visuals, music, and narrations were able to captivate my mind and soul and direct me into certain experiences.

Although walking is not commonly associated with powerful experiences or considered particularly entertaining, I believe the process, under certain circumstances, may be impactful. For example, imagine walking around a place full of childhood memories. Visiting a grave of a deceased loved one. Walking towards own execution. There are many instances when walking arouses strong emotions and deep thoughts. Can similar states of mind arise through interacting with a video game? Absolutely! For example, revisiting a game from childhood and taking time to look around and reminiscent about nostalgic times. Walking around a multiplayer game map alone. Besides that, some successful horror games may be classified as "walking simulators.".

Dear Esther aims to provide a powerful walking experience. Some have argued that "the walking part" is redundant; I, however, believe it to be central. Even though interaction with the world is limited to only a walk, it does make a big difference. Although walking is not an activity (a set of actions aimed at achieving a defined condition, but not necessarily achieving it in the process), it is an action (the exertion of force with a specific end result). Walking makes the player an active agent in the world rather than a passive observer; it allows to be immersed in the world of Dear Esther rather than "looking at it through a window." It makes the player literally walk a mile in someone else's shoes. And those shoes belong to someone with a story and a reason to be on the island. Dear Esther is not about a simple expositional walk around a beautiful island with no real intention behind it and obscure poetry readings along the way. It is something much deeper. It's a journey with motivation and a goal. Dear Esther does not explicitly state what those are: it delivers information through subtle symbolic visuals, an emotional soundtrack, and disjointed, poetic narration. Instead of clear expositions, it provides snippets of information that the player can use to form their own interpretations of what's going on: why the main character is on the island, what his story is, why are the seemingly random objects scattered on the island, and what the situation's overall goal is. It takes time and mental effort to extract useful information from the environment and narration, bring it together in a reasonable manner, and come up with a satisfying interpretation. Walking assists in this endeavor.

Anyone who has gone for a walk knows that the pleasure of walking comes not so much from the sequential movement of legs as from observation and thought. Walking, as a set of movements, is boring by itself. However, observation and thinking can be extremely entertaining; thus, humans love watching movies and solving intellectually stimulating problems. In this sense, walking, being not entertaining and leaving nothing else to do, pushes a person to observe and think; pushes to more entertaining available alternatives.

Dear Esther knows it. It provides an interesting, beautiful environment to look at. But it's not all beauty: Dear Esther also leaves subtle symbolic messages, which can be used to make sense of what's going on. The narration is poetic and disjointed. But it is not empty and pretentious nonsense: there is a specific story, albeit some details are left to be interpreted (that's why I say: "to make an interpretation" rather than "uncover the story"). There is a story and a conclusion to it; it's not all vague and meaningless. However, it takes effort and attention to catch the important details and distill meaning from them. When engaging with Dear Esther and playing within its limitations, the player is naturally inclined to exert the necessary effort; Dear Esther guides the player's attention precisely. It uses walking to stimulate observation and thinking, while providing content for them. The music playing along the way will create appropriate moods and atmosphere, to further immerse the player in the process. The main point of Dear Esther is not in its story, however. It is about the feelings, emotions, and ideas the journey it inspired awaken in the player.

Naturally, if one seeks challenge and active engagement, Dear Esther won't work. It requires a calm, open-minded state of mind. The same state of mind is, in fact, required for a thoughtful walk. If the player allows Dear Esther to influence emotions and gives effort to understand what it's trying to tell, then Dear Esther will provide one of the unforgettable walks. Otherwise, it will make one to raise eyebrows in disapproval.

The game is a nice and short walking simulator with cartoonish anthropomorphic animal characters and a cute, merry story. It feels like the video game equivalent of a children's fairy tale book with pictures. There is no hidden "adult stuff" nor anything of particular depth. You may let a child play the game alone, and it might enjoy it, given that it's fairly young and can be entertained by funny talking animals. However, I imagine that playing it with the child would be much more enjoyable for both the child and the parent.

The gameplay consists of walking around a small island and conversing with characters. The objective is "to solve the ghost mystery." To solve the mystery, the player must collect items and information from the island's inhabitants. In order to obtain a required item from one character, the player may be required to speak with another character, either to obtain another item or information. Everything will be obvious to an adult, but I imagine it will take some thought power for a child to understand that "in order to get the item A, I should first talk to the character B." In this regard, the game can be a true mystery adventure for a child; not so much for an adult.

I would recommend this game to parents as a family activity before bedtime. I would imagine the game opening up in a different light with a child's innocent wonder about "the mystery of the ghost" and genuine attempts to solve it. My recommendation for the adult audience is limited: play it for the same reason you would open a children's fairy tale book. For example, you can calm down your emotions by entering a world of innocent fun. You can soothe your emotions by immersing yourself in a world of innocent fun. This game is not for you if you want to challenge yourself in any way.

Don't get sold on impressive eye candy—this game is a honey trap! It seduces players with concepts that sound beyond awesome and flashes fantastic cyberpunk-styled imagery that makes imagination run wild. Don't be fooled, as I was, because this game is shallow, boring, and spirit-crushing! Allow me to elaborate and wipe off its deceiving glamor.

I got hooked on this game after stumbling upon its gameplay footage on YouTube. The footage showed Level 1, where Judge Dredd walked around an impressive futuristic location, arresting everyone he had laid his eyes on: liberal protestors, graffiti artists, random pedestrians, and extremely fat people, who used undercarriages to support the weight of their huge bellies. "Wow", I thought to myself, "a game where you play as a super-cop in a dystopian future? Judge, jury, and executioner in one face, at that? This game must be awesome!" After a series of arrests, Dredd was sent to handle a bank robbery. His weapon was the coolest gun imaginable: a sci-fi pistol with six different modes of fire, which ranged from burst mode to heat-seeking bullets. Not only that, but after shooting at the perpetrators, some of them surrendered and waited to be apprehended. Dredd could also shoot weapons directly from his hands, disarming his enemies. As if that wasn't awesome enough, straight after the robbery, Dredd was sent to protect citizens from vampires. This footage sold me on the game, and I got it on Steam. Soon after, my disappointment was immeasurable, and my day was ruined, as the saying goes. Instead of being captivated by unique game mechanics and tight action, I should have paid attention to the details.

The arrest mechanic gets old quick. As much as it is fun at first to arrest mega-fat people for some contrived reasons, such as "possession of a goldfish without a license", it is revealed to be meaningless fast. There is no reason to arrest anyone besides when an objective specifically orders to. There is no reward or punishment for arresting innocent people. Disarming dangerous perpetrators makes them harmless, making their arrest an extra step without a purpose. There is a simple reputation system that moves an arrow up and down depending on certain actions. Arrest anyone, and the arrow goes up. Kill a civilian or a submitting perpetrator, and the arrow goes down. When the arrow reaches the bottom, it's a game over. Nothing happens when the arrow is above this point. This reputation mechanic added a bit of suspense in the beginning; it made me question: "Should I pull the trigger or should I change my ammo type to avoid damaging civilians first? "Maybe the suspect is submitting; I should ceasefire and take a quick look." This suspense evaporated as soon as the realization of the dull simplicity of enemy AI hits (at Level 2, to be precise).

If I didn't know this game came out in 2003, you could not convince me the game's AI was not scripted in Unity Engine during someone's weekend. I have not seen AI as dumb as in this game anywhere besides quickly put together asset flipper games sold on Steam for less than a dollar. I am not over-exaggerating. Human enemies run around randomly, sometimes stopping to shoot. That's their loop. Vampires run towards the player. That's it. There are also zombies. They are the slow version of vampires. Enemies in this game are not a threat, even on the highest difficulty. Why would anyone even bother arresting mindless dummies? There is no immersion to justify it. Besides, most of the time, Dredd has to fight zombies and vampires, which cannot be arrested. After Level 1, civilians rarely appear, so the best tactic is to run forward and kill everyone without a second thought. Doing otherwise would be a waste of time.

What a shame. Looking at the signature weapon of Dredd, a sci-fi gun with six different modes of fire, I cannot help but wonder about the wasted potential of putting such a conceptually amazing weapon in such a dreadful game. The gun can switch between burst mode, armor-piercing, ricochet, incendiary, high explosive, and heat-seeking bullets. This game does not deserve this gun. It would be so awesome in a game like "Duke Nukem 3D" or "Doom," but in "Judge Dredd: Dredd vs. Death," all these awesome features do not have much application. There are no armored enemies nor robots to use armor-piercing against. Enemies don't use covers to justify ricocheting bullets. So it is with heat seekers. High explosives are not strong enough to validate their high ammo consumption. Incendiary claims to be effective against undead enemies, but it is much faster and takes less ammo to kill enemies using standard burst mode. The last point applies to every mode, actually. It is not just pointless to use any other mode than standard burst, but it is also counter-productive, since fancy fire modes consume more ammo from the shared ammo bank while killing enemies slower. Ammo count is an issue for the gun since, lore-wise, it is DNA-locked and can be used only by Judges. That means, enemies won't drop ammo for the gun, instead providing "secondary weapon" alternatives, which are bland "pistol-shotgun-rifle-machinegun" variations. As such, using the gun with anything but a standard burst will quickly drain the ammo bank, further disincentivizing the use of the cool features.

There are no additional mechanics to save this mess. As a result, this game offers a boring shooting range with brain-dead dummies as targets. Sometimes, dummies have to be arrested. That's all. Despite having very impressive visual design, shallow gameplay takes away motivation for immersing oneself in this game.

It took me 3 hours to finish this game, and these 3 hours felt VEEEEEEEEEEEEEERY long because of how BORING it was to play this game. There is no captivating story, and there is no enjoyable gameplay. Only beautiful cyberpunk visuals and a cool-looking arrest mechanic, which stimulates imagination more than it can actually deliver. The last sentence may be used as a conclusion for the whole game.

I really enjoyed Duke Nukem 3D. Although shooting mechanics felt underwhelming at first, understanding their peculiarities and how they operate with other gameplay elements allowed for a gratifying experience. Besides gameplay, the game offered surprisingly deep immersion, which in many ways defined my overall enjoyment. I believe the immersion aspect of Duke Nukem 3D is largely overlooked. The spotlight of attention is stolen by none other than Duke Nukem himself, leaving his surroundings in the dark. However, what lies in the dark contains essential information that allows one to attach more depth to Duke's character than "an outdated action hero spitting one-liners" and consequently allow oneself to look at the world through his shades.

The biggest obstacles to getting into the mindset of Duke Nukem are his attitude and reputation. Duke is an extreme narcissist, and he doesn't hide it. His narcissistic behavior naturally causes aversion and invites ridicule. Duke's inflated ego and hyper-macho attitude make it hard to take him seriously. On the contrary, these make it easy to treat him as a clown, who occasionally says amusing lines. There are videos on the internet, where people impersonate Duke's voice and change his lines to something like: "It's time to kick ass and chew bubblegum. And I have erectile dysfunction." Nobody wants to be associated with a narcissistic clown; they only want to laugh at him. As Duke is treated like a clown, the world around him is treated like a circus.

But the world of Duke Nukem 3D is far from 'funny'. In fact, a closer look reveals a horrific, depressing picture: humanity had lost to alien forces and now faces planetwide genocide. Cities are depopulated from humans. Women are coerced into sexual labor and suffer forced impregnation by alien lifeforms. Men are presumably killed. There are no mentions nor signs of any kind of resistance. Quiet the contrary, there are signs of a total defeat. It was the message "SEND HELP!" and a logo of "Earth Defense Forces" on a space station full of hostile aliens, orbiting the Earth that made me realize: Duke Nukem might be the only hope humanity has in front of total physical eradication. That's given that it's not already too late to fight.

Realizing the scope of atrocities sparked disgust and spite towards the alien invaders. All of a sudden, pulling the trigger became very satisfactory. Pixels on the screen gained weight and emotional attachment. After blowing up an alien bastard with a pipe bomb, Duke said: 'Eat ♥♥♥♥ and die'." Instead of finding it amusing like usual, I caught myself thinking: 'That's exactly how I feel." I began to understand and relate to Duke Nukem. His machismo and narcissism were revealed to be a reasonable response to what's going on around him. The truth is, Duke does not have a right to doubt himself: any kind of defeatist behavior would be fatal to him and, as a result, to every surviving human being. He must face overwhelming forces, go through devastated cities, survive in hazardous environments, and march forward without any rest. If Duke Nukem were "normal," he would most likely succumb to apathy and depression. A moment of weakness is enough to crash a man's spirit in such circumstances. Instead, Duke spits one-liners and bullets, single-handedly winning battle after battle. If anything, I would wish to be Duke Nukem in a similar scenario to the one he is in.

Needless to say, immersion greatly amplifies any experience, including gaming experiences. Duke Nukem 3D allows one to immerse themselves in the role of an action hero who fights battles tougher than nails to save humanity. Or take bitter revenge for its extinction. Duke Nukem's character is not outdated: he fits his environment perfectly. All it takes for the immersion to kick in is to look beyond Duke and realize the weight of the situation. After the realization, the role of Duke starts to feel like a tailored suit: it fits in all the right places. 

Gameplay complements the role of an action hero fighting tough aliens superbly, although shooting is peculiar and not at all mindless as it may appear at first glance. Duke Nukem's 3D shooting mechanics are not very fun by themselves. Enemies mostly do not react to being shot; they only stagger, along with an animation, once a certain amount of damage is dealt. Put simply, Duke Nukem's 3D enemies are bullet sponges. Most of them are hit-scanners. Needless to say, hit-scan bullet sponge enemies who barely react when shot do not sound like fun to play against. And without additional gameplay layers, they are not entertaining and are boring and annoying to play against. Fortunately, the game provides an additional layer to make fighting them fun: resource management.

The resources in Duke Nukem 3D are valuable. Health, ammo, and gadgets are scarce, requiring careful management. The game's shooting is founded on this principle: Guns are plentiful, ammo is not. Guns mostly vary in damage, some distinguishing themselves by the type of damage dealt and area of application. The player is constantly required to make informed decisions about which weapon to apply in a given situation against a given set of enemies. The key is to deal the right amount and type of damage to avoid using too many resources. Otherwise, one may run out of ammo. Although some weapons are inconvenient to use, the player is nonetheless incentivized to use them in specialized contexts to effectively manage their own resources. This approach works and is fun to play. It makes Duke Nukem 3D not so much about mindless shooting, but rather strategizing and deciding which tools to use in a given situation based on a multitude of factors. Resource management provides Duke Nukem 3D with a certain complexity of gameplay. This complexity, however, does not slow the gameplay but adds to it. Episode 5, the one created 20 years later and exclusively released in "20-th Anniversary" provides a clear demonstration of what would happen if Duke Nukem 3D gameplay did not feature this additional layer. 

Levels in Episode 5 completely disregard resource management by providing an abundance of resources. I guess the design line of thinking was: "Let the player enjoy every toy available!" However, as was discussed above, shooting enemies in Duke Nukem 3D by itself is not very fun. Constantly having every weapon available does not change this fact. If anything, it narrows down the usage of weaponry to the most powerful and convenient. Why use Mines, Shrinker, Freezethrower, and other weapons with specific areas of application if one can simply shoot rockets and replenish their supplies around every corner? Why search for secrets if ammo and health kits are everywhere? Why do anything but walk forward, shooting rockets, until the level ends? Although I found the levels in Episode 5 to be intriguing by themselves, the overabundance of ammo and health packs lying around made the general experience boring and dull. I found this episode to be the easiest out of all, even though I played on the same difficulty as others. Also, this episode did not just feature bigger counts of enemies, but also ALL THE BOSSES FROM PREVIOUS EPISODES AND THEIR MINI VERSIONS along regular foes. This should have been the toughest, the most badass episode, and the pinnacle of the Duke Nukem 3D challenge. But it was completely ruined by cheat-like amounts of resources. I used Rocket Launcher for most of the time, switching to Devastator to fight against the strongest enemies. I could barely force myself to finish this episode, yawning along the way. The final boss was a complete anticlimactic disaster: it was armed with small-range flamethrowers. I stepped away and spammed it with rockets. Done.

Episode 5 goes to show that the original "Duke Nukem 3D" is much more than "a mindless shooter with an action hero." For me, it is a heroic story about struggling against all odds, where the hero uses his cunning to survive.