Despite initially traversing the labyrinthine mid-‘00s concrete jungle that 428: Shibuya Scramble presents with giddy delight, through cornering its squalid alleyways; dashing through an overpowering crosswalk throng, a furrowing of brow and downturn of mouth proves almost inevitable. You sit, bewildered, as the narrative intersects in such a way to involve a child soldier assisting with the Abu Ghraib liberation reimagined as a Takeuchi-designed bishoujo, Evil McEvil supervillains affiliated with the CIA that seemingly have the police force complicit in their nefarious machinations, and a supervirus threatening to stop the world in its tracks.

It’s, uh, a lot to take in. And I’m not sure how I really feel about that? Though global conspiracies are certainly par for the course where works of this nature are concerned, I’m more taken with the intimate stories; the pulsating heart of this absurd city. An amnesiac girl’s journey of self-discovery, a hot-blooded reporter with a penchant for pointing calling to mind a spikey-haired lawyer familiar to all, a father struggling to reconnect with his family while grappling with moral responsibilities.

Satiates the Baldur’s Gate 3 craving that had been gnawing, ferociously, at my core for months (‘thou must return! embrace the dark urge!! toxic durgetash yaois await!!! ignore the fact that you are reluctant to return until the fandom has exhausted itself in terms of mods and such!!!!’ – hush, self). Divinity: Original Sin is a world that feels familiar in terms of witnessing how Larian laid the foundational blocks for the immaculate construction that old Baldurian himself would approve of, while also feeling fresh. New world, and all that.

Though the characters are considerably lacking compared to shart-my-beloved & co., the same sense of freedom prevails in terms of navigating fraught situations through throwing any old thing at the wall and see what sticks (or realistically, tumbles right off and crashes all the way back into your party #rip). Fun times!

Had been meaning to visit the world swathed in dusk for quite some time now, due to a sweet Food 4 Dogs’ video in which the eternally lovely Britta unboxed a figure of its titular protagonist. My first Atelier game, and I’m already under its spell.

Ayesha herself is a darling.

me,

someone stop me picking up games afforded a spread in past PALETTA issues simply bc they are pushed as being ~mysterious~ despite being frontloaded with all matter of turgid, grimace-inducing buffoonery

press f to a real one

when u try to skip all these tama-based sequences but the emulator crashes multiple times... what are u trying to tell me

Pulse erratically thrumming as an uncomfortable sensation traced its way up my spine, I came to a rather grim realization not too long into Final Fantasy XII’s opening swathe: it bears an uncanny resemblance to XIV. A terribly glib and facetious comparison, of course, yet trapezing around Rabanastre’s winding, cobblestone expanse felt like tracing the Steps of Nald, gently lulled into a trance by ‘Sultana’s Dreaming’.

Various circumstances lead to finally throwing in the XIV-patterned towel (mainly, undoubtedly, certainly due to spending countless hours painstakingly gathering and constructing materials in pursuit of a Lavender Beds cottage; a domestic e-idyll nestled amidst perpetual bloom and gentle streams… tragically lost after becoming engrossed in Baldur’s Gate 3 for over a month, allowing my proverbial deed on the property to lapse with the long-sought haven to be unceremoniously shuffled on over to the next bidder).

Heteronormative expectations mercilessly foisted upon queer women calling for a supression of who they are inevitably ends in tragedy.

Quelle surprise.

Cast through a glistening prism of memories, Persona 2: Innocent Sin occupied a curious position as the Persona title I would, following a moment’s pause, gesture towards being the franchise at its absolute best. Experiencing the PSP release following P3 and P4, the scope of its rumour-driven system came across as fresh and ambitious; narrative (thankfully) absent of what bothered me about those later entries.

Returning to Innocent Sin after franchise fatigue has settled down to my marrow reminds me of what a worthwhile piece it is, particularly when contextualized amidst the technological upheaval and urban myth-making of 1998. Joker is summoned via a cell phone, reflecting rapid digitization within a shifting landscape and how communication and information dissemination filters through cybernetic highways.

this makes me cry evrytiem...... jun :(

Update: Have finished Innocent Sin, but am stalling on Eternal Punishment as I ended up being so disillusioned by the grunge lady coming down with a terminal case of the Atlus Does it Again™s.

spooky fish go brrrrr

no for real though why are they so obsessed with me STOP destroying my boat when I’m two seconds out on the water!!!! get a job omg

Hearing the snobbish visitors with the overly large hats derisively mutter ‘were they even expecting visitors?’ after spending the last two hours constructing pretty flowerbeds and water features to welcome them onto my island… My village representative did The Florence Pugh Walk™ all the way over to the harbour to greet them but at what cost.

Have no idea how trade routes work and I’m aligning myself with everyone, which naturally resulted in Beryl’s feathers getting ruffled and Oh No now she’s out for blood and my lovely little town earning a name for lovingly spun wool is now enveloped in war aaaaaaaaaaAAAAAAAA

BARK BARK BARK BARK BARK BARK BARK BARK BARK BARK

Enjoying Hatsuyuki Sakura, but what constitutes as its humour is dyed in the deepest of blues. Though posited as a mechanism to alienate those coming into contact with Hatsuyuki, fine-tuned to keep them at arm's length, his bawdy boundary-pushing quips are often gruelling to sit through. obligatory_comedy_scene_you_can_probably_skip_through_bgm.mp3 playing during these instances suggests that the player is meant to find such antics amusing as opposed to disconcerting; hollow laughter resounding as he highlights the imagined promiscuity of the female cast.

From time to time he will receive pushback, but such moments typically devolve into a predictable whirlwind of flustered indignation or resigned irritation, ultimately failing to hold him accountable. Take a shot whenever he calls someone a slut and you'll be on the floor before the hour is up.

Hatsuyuki himself is a complicated character, framed through a pseudo-villainous lens: self-sabotaging, seeking refuge within the inky depths of a bottle, eliciting murmured apprehension wherever his presence is felt. People don't tend to like the guy. Hatsuyuki's remarks are one of the many things meant to dissuade those hoping to dispel the oppressive miasma enveloping his existence, and while Hatsuyuki Sakura does a commendable job at showing, well, the guy being an unlikeable dick due to this and that, I'm not keen on the idea of inviting the player to laugh at what are quite frankly nasty and invasive comments. It would be one thing if there was a consensual element attached, but the subjects understandably end up being uncomfortable, more often than not.

If you can stomach the above, however – from the moment Ayana’s chanting drifts through the hypnotic stupor of freak of nature: start (openings sans lyrics are rare, particularly when derived from preexisting pieces that have been around for a number of years at the time of inclusion), you’ve fallen prey to Hatsuyuki Sakura’s dreamlike, otherworldly allure. Hatsuyuki and Sakura’s own names hinting at ephemerality, our doomed pair floating throughout school halls and city areas like spectres, no one really noticing them.

Everything to do with the old town. Sakura earnestly wishing to enjoy what little time she has at the school, taking every commonplace sight as something special, and to be treasured; polished and glistening like the most precious of gems. This gruff, somewhat tsuntsun fellow with a chip on his shoulder gets his buttons pushed by an affable, well-meaning girl whose smile conceals something that isn't quiteeeee adding up.

And it’s honestly incredible.

ran route spoilers

Infinity Nikki is a game that I will forever feel conflicted about, but 2.0 has been an unusually pleasant return to form so who can say if it’s really bad y’know. I love the snails so much I would buy at least one plushie of them. At least.

walk walk fashion baby

A surprisingly poignant piece about bonds forged throughout one’s life, portrayed through the unexpectedly effective conduit of a turnip quite literally running through life. From the soil it sprouts, to the soil it will eventually return and it’s up to you in Minabo: A Walk Through Life how it all fares. While Minabo could ostensibly be ridded of its thought-provoking lustre after a round or two, a few hours in and the journey nevertheless remains compelling each time due to the variables which are involved, echoing our own lives.

There’s just something about kitsch management sims which kneed an all too pliable, primordial part of my brain – and if they invoke a pixelated aesthetic? Be still my beating, equally squishy heart! Dave the Diver makes for a delightful entry in the ever-expanding gathering-and-utilizing-resources-with-a-pixel-backdrop multiverse, in which you apply myriad techniques in order to capture fish and sell ‘em off when the sun sets via an increasingly busy sushi joint. Despite being a staunch vegetarian, the fishing part doesn’t instil queasiness but naturally YMMV here.

I want to like Buried Stars - really, I do! But there’s just so much circuitous, repetitive yapping following every single interaction in which the cast reiterates what other members have mentioned on multiple occasions. I heard nothing but praise for Buried Stars but I am not sure if my attention span can handle the arduous task that is 30+ hours of this…!

Having spent several hours submerged in the gloomy lycoris-swathed fields of Virche Evermore, I find myself spellbound; lost amidst its wiry petals. With inhabitants of an isolated island succumbing to a mysterious illness long before celebrating their 23rd birthday, I harboured a degree of scepticism certain that it was merely convenient window dressing to ensure the cast’s age bracket doesn’t stretch too wide. To Virche’s credit however, through a rather dubious process of branding and contractual agreements this can be thwarted – though to which degree, I cannot say.

It’s a premise which coaxes the unsuspecting player into the domain of moral intrigue, dangling the prospect of the inherent fallibility of memories alongside dignity in death above their heads.

Compounding the complexity, Virche’s protagonist cuts a sombre and lonesome figure through bearing the burden of responsibility for those who’ve perished in her presence. Word quickly spreads and she’s parsed as a reaper-like figure to be avoided, resulting in a level of oppressive societal alienation which corners her emotionally.

It’s soul-crushing to see barbed jabs levelled in her direction even during these early stages, adding a distinctly melancholic note to the events which unfurl. The romantic candidates, though adhering to established tropes, are likeable. Unless things take a turn for the worst, I can’t see myself willing to crush the lycoris flowers underfoot any time soon.