Reseñas recientes de hi Swift

XCOM is a numbers game. More specifically, it’s about percentages - 80% chance of hitting your enemy, 20% of evading, 50% chance of a critical, and so on. However, things are rarely 100% certain in life. Missing four shots in a row with an 80% chance to hit does happen, it doesn’t mean the fifth shot is any more certain to hit. We can feel hard done by, as we do in our real lives.

But XCOM teaches you to play the long game. It teaches you that, if you’ve got a high chance of winning, you might have to sit back and grit your teeth as countries pull their funding, civilians get killed, and some of your best men die. XCOM teaches you that resilience, patience, and trust in the numbers - even when things look grim - are key to winning. Losing your best soldier is like a stab to the chest, but abandoning the plan can lead to the deaths of entire squads.

XCOM wants you to experience loss. In simple alien abduction missions, you can work to mitigate as much risk as possible; casualties do occur, even for skilled players; but generally you can take your time and systematically clear the map of hostiles. Rescue missions, on the other hand, you’re lucky to save half of the hostages on the map before the alien threat systematically executes them.

You’re forced to take risks to save who you can, but trying to save everyone is a quick way to lose - and the game dangles this in front of you like candy. Bomb disposal missions ask you to run in blind, and accept the consequences. It’s not fair, but it rarely is. While this sounds frustrating on paper, throughout an entire game of XCOM (approx 17-20 hours) you will always succeed if you play the best percentages you can, regardless of what happens in an individual skirmish. You have to learn to persevere and accept not everyone will be happy with you. But that makes the wins all the more satisfying.

XCOM’s visuals feel deceptively cheap considering the nuanced moral philosophy underpinning the gameplay. Aliens look generic to the point of laziness, feeling less like a tribute to X-Files and more just uninspired (although one of my generic soldiers being named ‘Mulder’ was a nice touch). Playing in 2024, XCOM looks like a cash-cow mobile game despite some nice environmental effects. The UI is also clearly designed for controllers, which is fine and a big bonus for accessibility, but buttons and inputs don’t feel quite as responsive as they should on KB+M.

The biggest issue plaguing XCOM is stability. The game frequently hangs mid-turn, becoming unresponsive to all but a full game restart. In an avant-garde ode between UI and gameplay, manual saving works 40% of the time at best, with an extra 20% if you delete an older saved game first. Visual glitches are fairly common, with silhouettes appearing through walls and textures on models taking a few seconds to load in. Situation control, a screen which is supposed to show your current objectives, remains blank 80% of the time too.

Despite some really disappointing technical issues, XCOM is an incredibly tense, satisfying and often draining experience. The gameplay themes of chance, tactics and strategy are reinforced by every mechanic, creating an impressive whole that feels genuinely well-thought-out at every level.

Developer Don’t Nod thrive in episodic adventure games based purely around dialogue and world building. Their follow-up to Remember Me, Life is Strange, left a permanent mark on me that has me weeping every time I listen to Foals – Spanish Sahara . To this effect, Remember Me is pretty strong out the gates; the dilapidated slums of Neo-Paris combine French architecture and South American favelas into a hopeless dystopia. Designer shops and patisseries are placed less than an arm’s length from falling tin roofs and hazardous electric wires.

Remember Me follows a group of urban rebels who can steal and remix people’s memories, planting traumas and instilling hope alike. The concept is fun and enables characters to instantly show their most emotional moments without needing the story to naturally flow to these points. The protagonist’s voice acting is particularly strong, but the score carries the slack left by some of the middling supporting cast.

It's a shame that this beautiful and vast looking world is completely penned in with invisible walls and restricted movement spaces. You’ll only ever need to hold the thumbstick in a single direction to navigate the world, and the combat itself is no more stimulating – made up of tedious button mashing and quick-time events.


Enemies felt like padding to slow the progress of the story, rather than an engaging mechanic to support it; in fact, the whole game feels like it’s in the way of the story. I couldn’t help but completely disengage a few hours in. I’d be interested to follow the story, but it’s not worth slogging through the mind-numbing gameplay to reach it.

Among Us is simplistic co-op game designed for friends. The mini-games are easy to pick-up and the game has an endearing sense of humour. It's one of those games that, given its wide appeal for all ages, I'm all for pedalling its cheesy jokes and I can imagine with a solid group of regulars on Discord this would be a huge amount of fun. I loved the character customisation, with near hundreds of cosmetic items available instantly to express yourself through your lil bean persona.

I hold some core memories during lockdown, and it's a fun social concept, but the gameplay of Among Us is very one-note and it gets dull fast. Getting friends into a lobby also feels a bit more difficult than it should, with no Steam or Xbox Game Bar support. Instead, the game relies on signing into an 'Among Us' account which assigns you an obtuse randomly generated name complete. The connection to your friends feels lessened in-game when everyone is called "CuriousFrog#2031".

I don't think it's a bad game by any stretch; it's accessible to a wide audience, is easy to play, and hinges refreshingly on social features for a game this popular and widely played. However, games like Jackbox Party Pack offer much more variety and involve challenges beyond simply accusing your friends of lying. Instead, testing your knowledge of others you think you know well, showcasing your creativity (or lack thereof) and more nuanced lying challenges.

I love the branding and style, but the gameplay just didn't keep me personally engaged or wanting to play more. If you've got a chill group of friends, it's low price-tag should still make it an appealing prospect regardless, but I think it's too simple and repetitive to be a constant fixture with my friends.

Fallout NV is a game I’ve completed so many times, across both console and PC, that it’s hard for me to view it through a fresh pair of eyes. Since exploring Fallout 4 on Survival mode, I figured it was time to test my grit in the Mojave Wasteland with New Vegas’s Hardcore mode, and see if my experience was changed as significantly as in FO4.

Compared to Fallout 4, New Vegas’s Hardcore mode was effortless. Despite your character having to monitor hunger, thirst and sleep deprivation, the system is so forgiving that you’ll rarely face any consequences. Hunger and sleep were non-factors especially; food is so bountiful and hunger so slow to build that you’ll seldom be impacted. I only needed to sleep once in my entire 20-hour playthrough, and even then I only faced a small debuff to my S.P.E.C.I.A.L skills. In contrast, to prevent dehydration you have to constantly waterboard yourself. Hardcore mode is essentially just about drinking water every two minutes, with sadly no additional damage modifiers to change combat, removing the hair-trigger moments of Fallout 4. But hey, at least you can save anywhere and don’t need to save in beds.

Character role-playing is mixed bag too. Speech checks still occur through your speech stat, but will often require knowledge of bartering, science, medicine and repair - smooth-talking isn’t enough in its own right anymore, and genuine knowledge of areas is required to pass speech checks. I love this system, as it requires you to min-max early in the game and not simply bluff your way through every quest. On the other hand, some traits feel comparatively weak or underutilised. Charisma, strangely, has little connection to your actual speech skill, serving mostly as a means to slightly adjust in-game vendor prices. Computer skill is also utilised much less than lockpicking, which is often mandatory to progress certain quests, and there’s little incentive to choose unarmed skills over melee. In any case, traditional guns almost always come out on top in combat due to both their damage and ubiquity.

Fallout NV is stuffed with 540+ locations, multiple branching pathways, 65,000 lines of dialogue and so many memorable quests it’s almost daunting. Whilst the best part of the gameplay loop is wandering in a random direction and seeing what you find, standout missions like protecting NCR’s president from assassination, hauling a B-29 bomber from Lake Mead, and discovering the sacrifices of Vault 11 mean faction quests are generally worth pursuing. I also love the lack of sentimentality in New Vegas’s story, avoiding the melodramatic family turmoil of previous games in exchange for a cold story of revenge.

One thing I noticed - probably owed to NV’s 18-month development cycle - is how empty and liminal bigger locations can be. Camp McCarran’s terminal building, intended to be one of the NCR’s biggest science labs, consists of around 4 people in an office. Hoover Dam feels both too large and too empty, with few interesting things to see. This might be due to running on 360/PS3 era hardware, capping the number of NPCs and objects available in one area. Despite this, smaller locations are generally fantastic, filled with environmental storytelling, interesting characters and unique loot.

It wouldn’t be a FO:NV review without a paragraph on glitches and jank. On the plus side, modding felt super easy through Vortex and the majority of glitch-fixing patches are only a handful of megabytes in size. Performance and loading times were also superb and, in some cases, areas were preloaded in advance resulting in no wait times at all. The game feels like an open platform and there’s a near-unlimited number of high-quality quests and assets to install to make NV last forever. Movement is fairly jittery, with my character either getting stuck running in a straightline, prompting a reload, or throwing himself forwards.

Sometimes, the sheer amount of jank makes NV feel like an alternative reality where physics and collision are just a suggestion. It’s like acid dream: voice actors will change mid-sentence, even with critical story characters, Others have reported not being able to enter The Strip unless they wear a specific cowboy hat, or the game will crash. VATS will fail to load in, and the animations feel like they’re straight from a web-based 3D flash game.

Fallout: New Vegas is still a fantastic game, but don’t expect hardcore mode to give the game an entirely new lease of life. Since damage modifiers remain the same, and hunger and sleep requirements are so lenient, you won’t find yourself adopting any new strategies or engaging in mechanics for the sake of survival. There’s a little more inventory management required, but otherwise it’s New Vegas as you’ve always known it. But what a game it is.

Splinter Cell promises “Stealth Action Redefined” and delivers it for the most part. Each environment reacts to the player’s noise levels, including surface-type walked on (a la Thief), and different lighting intensities. For example: the various shades of light between pitch black and broad day means the player will occasionally be forced to take some serious risks in the name of progress. Taking a moderately exposed path, while the enemy turns their back, builds panic as you rush forward to the sounds of guards muttering between them.

The sound across Splinter Cell is fantastic, but most enjoyable is the radio chatter between protagonist Sam Fisher and Irving Lambert, the voice in your earpiece and Director of the secret intelligence agency Third Echelon. As well as issuing mission objectives, there are some genuinely great one-liners and witty retorts from either side, with Sam showcasing a playfully rebellious and cynical side which occasionally cracks a smirk from ‘by the books’ Lambert. The story itself though is eyerollingly patriotic, with the US almost always seen as the good guys up against various Asian, Russian and Eastern European baddies. Propaganda might be a bit extreme, but I do wonder how Western audiences would interpret Splinter Cell’s themes of US peacekeeping and grandstanding moral authority.

Such is a shame that Splinter Cell is incredibly linear, painful even. Each path forward has a strict and inflexible idea in mind for how the player should tackle it. You’ll mostly be navigating through corridors, using a broad range of equipment and acrobatic techniques in an entirely prescribed method to overcome a problem. While this creates a tailored experience for the player, unravelling the game’s mechanics between each checkpoint and upskilling the player, it also eliminates any resemblance of emergent gameplay.

For example: despite the wealth of complex stealth mechanics, none are taken advantage of for differing routes. Exploration is limited solely to an occasional extra medkit which, given detection will most likely either instantly fail the mission or have Sam killed, it doesn’t really offer any advantage. How good would Splinter Cell be if each mission had a few branching paths to the objective?

You could have three routes to the objective: one being the regular path, taken by players and instructed by Lambert, but also a high-risk high-reward path to reach the objective quicker, testing seasoned players. Then, a secret path offering a mix of the two, but relying entirely on close observation of the environment and Sam’s acrobatic abilities to reach, potentially even incorporating the computer logs and text messages which currently only serves as flavour text.

Overall, Splinter Cell feels half-baked and its level design lacking in creativity. What could have been a richly mechanical and systems-led game, becomes a game which punishes out of box thinking.

Super Meat Boy is seen as ‘traditionally’ difficult, but it’s by far the least frustrating game I’ve played. There are no cheap deaths; the game is open about its obstacles and often gives you plenty of time to navigate them, just don’t panic. But that’s the key: you have to relax.

To me, frustration is about not being in control. When we are punished by things which we had no input or say on, we feel helpless and, in turn, our confidence falters. When our confidence drops, we make more mistakes. We blame ourselves, and our self-esteem drops. What turns into an external problem, becomes an internal one - and we feel bad about ourselves and our inadequacies.

Super Meat Boy’s gamepad controls are so responsive, Meat Boy so agile, and momentum so quick to adjust that you always feel in control. Even when you make a mistake and miss the perfect opportunity to jump, there’s always a split second where quick thinking and calm nerves can fix the situation. Short stages and instant, unlimited respawns means you never lose more than a few seconds of progress either, and so you’re never really punished for failure nor are your nerves fried from the pressure.

Once you’ve cracked the exact timings to a jump, or exact moment to slide down a wall, you’ve completed one of 5 to 10 ‘mini’ challenges in each level, and it’s just a matter of stringing them altogether. Easier said than done, but muscle memory picks up the slack where your brain might usually get tired. And if you do feel like it’s getting too easy, Super Meat Boy has a ‘B-side’ (known as the dark world) to every level which offers a challenging new twist on the original concept. This is most interesting in the first stage of the game, where a basic tutorial can suddenly doubles into a playground for advanced techniques.

Placed sneakily within regular levels are special stages which flip the formula, at least visually. These include levels themed around the monochromatic original Gameboy, the NES, or even the Windows blue screen of death. These bonus levels are a breath of fresh air, but can occasionally edge towards the frustrating. Most include limited lives, bringing an unexpected level of punishment for trial and error, and the visual style can make obstacles difficult to discern from the background.

Overall, Super Meat Boy is a fast-n-fantastic platformer brimming with charm and personality. The game’s quality rarely slips, and it’s abundance of content can keep you addicted indefinitely. I wholeheartedly recommend, as well as ‘Indie Game: The Movie’ which covers the highs and lows of its development.

KOTOR’s blockbuster story and high production values, including a fully voice-acted script, launched the cRPG genre into hyperspace and ushered in the golden age of Bioware. Despite lacking a certain flash to its gameplay, and a slew of technical problems, KOTOR still holds up as the #1 Star Wars game.

KOTOR’s story is primarily an analysis of how different planets adapt to war, with criticisms and compliments of each approach. Take Manaan, for instance, an aquatic planet which maintains a fragile and shaky neutrality during the destructive Sith-Republic war. To maintain their position, Manaan allows the Sith and Republic access to their markets, yet enforces strict laws to punish any Sith or Republic soldier taking violence against each other. While neutrality seems an ideal solution to prevent Manaan’s fate from hinging on the outcome of war, the administrative and legal burden to hold this peace leaves huge security holes domestically. The Sith and Jedi are left free to lead mining operations of Kolto resource - used as a healing agent across the galaxy - to their ends, with both sides manipulating and intruding upon a pacifist species. Depending on your choices, this can lead to either simple exploitation of an overburdened planet, or complete ecological disaster.

Meanwhile, Kashyyyk’s cynical willingness to partner with the powerful dark side Czerka Corporation, in order to prevent all-out war, leads to a gradual erosion of their culture and values. To strip the Wookies of their identity, and retain their grasp on the natives, Czerka rename the planet ‘Edean’ and placed a respected Wookie, Chuunder, as ruler despite him selling out his own people. This gives the outward impression of democracy, and respect for Wookie tradition, despite Chuunder leading unopposed under the guise of preventing war. This colonialist metaphor shows how indirect power is asserted and maintained, as the Wookies are easily overturned despite being physically more powerful.

When KOTOR strays from the moral quandaries of wartime politics, it feels much less compelling to non-Star Wars heads. Korriban, which contains a Sith academy, shows how war creates opportunity and ambition for people; an opportunity to overcome personal insecurity by overcoming great challenge. However, it’s mostly a dump of Star Wars extended universe lore which is now considered non-canon, becoming too self-indulgent and lost in its own mythology to feel relatable to anyone but the most hardcore Star Wars novel readers.

Another critique, sharply addressed by KOTOR 2, is just how pro-Jedi the moral lens is in this first game. There are significant critiques to be made of how the dogmatic Jedi refuse to act, letting thousands die while debating abstract lessons of wisdom in their ivory towers. Yet, they still manipulate people to do their dirty work when push comes to shove. The young Bastila, a highly respected yet rash Jedi commander, faces immense pressure to perform in war with little emotional support. The player character faces significant Jedi manipulation, with extremely immoral acts inflicted upon them, yet critiquing these decisions puts you firmly on a dark side path. Dark side choices are just comically cruel in KOTOR, however, and the Sith’s nihilistic philosophy is portrayed more as maniacally villainous rather than pragmatic. KOTOR 1’s biggest story problem is lacking the nuanced decision-making of KOTOR 2, and while areas of grey are explored by NPCs, you aren’t given many opportunities to follow a more moderate path.

KOTOR’s gameplay follows the D&D ruleset familiar to fans of cRPGs like Dragons Age Baldur’s Gate. Combat is turn-based but movement is mostly real-time, meaning each character will queue up attacks/item uses but you can reposition whenever you like; this means you’ll still get hit even if you run away at the last second, but it certainly helps the game feel more fluid as a result. Hacking and stealth can be intelligently used to avoid difficult encounters, but these specialisms are best used on party members due to a few mandatory boss encounters. My main problem was I found blasters to be almost useless compared to lightsabers, limiting my options to roleplay as a rogue or scoundrel. Force powers are ridiculously overpowered, and in the late-game feel almost essential to wipe out groups of enemies. This could however be a skill issue, but some late-game encounters - particularly the final level, can feel absolutely brutal without exploiting the force + lightsaber combo.

In 2024, KOTOR is an incredibly buggy game. In fact, it’s much worse than the often-criticized KOTOR 2. Your AI party members will get stuck on objects, run in different directions from you, walk away mid-convo, and fail to reach stage transitions, leaving you stuck in certain areas. Manaan is one of the worst offenders, where a few twists and turns will have your party members completely lost. In terms of modern compatibility, it took hours and numerous fixes to play the game at 1440p, and even then the game suffered from scaling issues such as tiny fonts. Given the recent Switch ports, it would have been helpful to receive a small QoL update to fix these issues, or even some achievements and controller support like KOTOR 2 on PC.

While not hitting the heights of KOTOR 2 for some technical and story reasons, this is still an incredible game. The D&D gameplay feels satisfying, especially late-game when you’ve unlocked a good number of abilities, and the writing is captivating and well-acted. Take your time with this, treat each planet like its own story, and always take everything with a pinch of salt.

Chex Quest HD is a remake of a cult-classic DOOM WAD from 1996, packaged within cereal boxes and granting kids the special ability to play a non-violent game, parentally approved.

Chex Quest HD runs on Unreal Engine 4, a touch overkill yet a pleasant change from the safe option of Unity. For this, the visuals look gorgeous; the rich, saturated colours pop and feel like a breath of fresh air for an FPS game. The colourful, razor-sharp cutscenes look brilliant at 1440p, with all due credit to the game’s talented digital painters.

Equally refreshing is gathering fruit for HP, and “teleporting” the alien Flemoids back home instead of wiping them out. Level design follows basic mazes littered with key cards and detours. All said and done, it’s extremely simplistic and can be completed in under 60 minutes. Each level has around 4 secrets in genuinely sneaky yet non-obtuse locations, and the ambient occlusion and shadowing create environments with more depth than your typically flat cartoon image.

In contrast to the original, Chex Quest HD has a painfully sluggish movement speed. Sprint is available, but its use is limited and, combined with the tight FOV, can easily make you feel nauseous. The lack of secret notifications, or a map, makes it difficult to know if you’ve 100%’d a level too. Overall, Chex Quest HD is a fun change of pace visually but doesn’t offer much more gameplay-wise than the most basic of DOOM wads.

Prodeus’ level design instantly reminded me of classic Quake 1 mods. Levels unfold like a Rubix cube with huge, sprawling environments rearranging themselves at the flip of a switch. Train stations feature moving wagons to help you progress – or knock down walls – and the floor will frequently give way to reveal additional layers of the map. I particularly loved the space station map featured in the late-game, allowing you to jump between shuttle pods and scale the exterior of the control centre. Big Unreal Tournament vibes in the best possible way.

The secrets reward exploration, being accessible via jumps and switches rather than tediously pressing the USE key on every single wall. Finding secrets rewards you with Ore, which is used to purchase additional weapons and abilities at the shop. Some secrets require use of mid-game abilities, such as the double-jump, giving you a strong incentive to replay earlier levels to finally collect out of reach Ore.

Prodeus’ overwhelms you with hundreds of surprisingly intelligent enemies per level. I noticed projectile-based enemies accurately guessing my movement pattern, encouraging me to make more use of my dodge ability by the late-game. Most of the combat revolves around prioritising enemies and moving quickly around the battlefield, in a style very similar to DOOM eternal. While facing scores of enemies, with particle effects and blood flying everywhere, the game ran rock-solid start to finish with perfect frame pacing.

Despite the razor sharp textures, huge interactive environments and spades of particles, Prodeus isn’t always easy on the eye. Part of the game’s retro 90s FPS style includes constant screen distortion, flashes, blur and chromatic aberration to simulate computer glitches. However, by the end of each 1 to 2 hour play session I found myself feeling slightly dizzy and even a little nauseous.

To its credit, Prodeus tries to compensate by adding a range of accessibility options, such as toggling the various types of distortion and CRT filters used. But it can’t get around the fact the visual style is fundamentally overwhelming. Some visual effects, such as vignettes, are locked into the game and can’t be changed without mods. I understand and appreciate the developer’s commitment to achieving their aesthetic, and the game is technically outstanding, but I would have loved a reduced intensity setting to help open the game up to wider audiences. For new players, I recommend playing the game with a 60Hz cap to reduce motion sickness. Heads up for disabled gamers too, controller support is fairly lacklustre too.

Overall, Prodeus features high production values and creative level design that should appeal to anyone with interest in the genre. People prone to motion sickness, or a visual based disability such as epilepsy, should be careful however, and I hope Bounding Box’s next game builds upon the accessibility features of this first game from day one.

Planescape Torment is a brilliant story-led RPG that focuses on themes of identity to craft a thought-provoking and immensely satisfying journey.

Planescape Torment is my first-ever Dungeons & Dragons (D&D) universe game. In fact, I started with Planescape specifically because it felt like a less intimidating starting point, with no knowledge of Dwarven and Elven politics required and a slightly more isolated universe, I felt confident I would be at a similar starting point as most players. For the most part, this held true. I wasn’t expected to understand the goliath number of proper nouns thrown my way without explanation, which Planescape happily provides within its 75,000 lines of dialogue. One exception was an event called the Blood War which, whenever discussed, I sheepishly nodded my head, presuming it was a lore point rather than something essential to know about. Without spoilers, it’s worth paying more attention to this. I won’t ruin the storyline if you aren’t aware, but it will be alluded to heavily within the game’s final moments.

Planescape features consistently superb writing. That doesn’t mean I liked every character: but I can vouch for each being incredibly nuanced and considered. None of the characters felt like plot devices, but believable people who progress the plot by offering you a single element of their personality to help push you further. Despite the cause-and-effect of your existence, the personal nature of the plot means common townsfolk are never in a position to view you as a hero or villain. You’re generally considered part of the mercenary class, and so you have no top trumps to pull whilst conversing with people. If you try to intrude on their affairs, they will either ask for help or simply tell you to leave in no uncertain terms.

The main quest follows The Nameless One, a brute-like character gifted with the power of immortality. Through your many deaths and revivals, your body has become hideously scared and, due to the spell cast on you, your memory has started wiping itself. This leads you to seek your own mortality . Fueled by an eternal death wish on yourself, you start by waking up in a mortuary, presumably one of several times, and retracing your many previous steps once again.

This creates an interplay between the different legacies of the same player-character, and several people immediately fear you, while others hold you in high regard, due to your previous actions. This leads to parts like discovering your old room, journal, and even clues left in the environment by your previous self. It’s like the amnesiac trope, typical in RPGs, yet much more considered and thought-provoking. It’s also a genius way to explain ‘video-gamey’ concepts like respawning, and even potentially save scumming, as you’re simply following different lives the protagonist has lived. It reminded me of the quantum physics theory that every decision made by a person initiates the creation of a new universe or timeline, except it plays strictly within one person’s life.

What I love about Planescape is expectations are challenged around every corner. One major plot point follows an angel who’s so hell-bent on being ‘good’ that he destroys an entire town to cleanse the earth of any possibility or potential for sin. While mostly fueled by paranoia, in his eyes he’s genuinely doing the world a favour by removing its inhabitants, who could act maliciously towards others. In his delusions, he misses the forest for the trees and brings an entire town to the brink of destruction.

The story is brilliant and, while complex, the ending goes out of its way to painstakingly explain each plot point and why certain things have happened. I imagine some people may mourn the loss of subtlety and feel the game should leave certain implications to the player to unravel themselves, but I certainly appreciated the handholding after 26 hours of constant story progression. This isn’t a gripe insofar as a reality of the production and era in which Planescape was created, but without voice acting my mind got slightly fatigued and scrambled due to the amount of dense text. All wonderfully produced, mind you, but digesting rapid-fire paragraphs does eventually take its toll.

I’ve neglected to talk about other gameplay systems because, outside of the brilliant dialogue system and choices, the non-story mechanics just aren’t that interesting. For starters, there is too much combat. If you read retrospectives of Planescape, you could be misled into thinking combat is almost non-existent. However, there are several essential dungeons where you have no option but to hack-and-slash your way through. Whilst in the main city hubs, enemies will often randomly spawn to simulate the dangers of living in the unforgiving worlds of the planes. Due to putting all my points into charisma, I managed to soft-lock myself due to an unbeatable combat encounter which felt pretty criminal for a story-centred RPG. Honestly, I would recommend putting the game on easy just so you can focus on what really matters: the story.

Thankfully, most quests offer peaceful ways to conclude them and a slightly rushed development of Planescape in the final months perhaps excised a few moments of choice in the late game. What hasn’t been skimped on is the artwork, which feels like you’re gliding along the edges of paintings in each stage of the game. It can be occasionally difficult to see doors, and your AI companions tend to get stuck on geometry, but a handy map screen with notes will help you identify anything you’ve missed.

In fact, the Enhanced Edition comes with so many great quality-of-life features. There’s every zoom level you could want, you can make manual adjustments to frame rate (a la game speed) and most importantly: accessibility options, like doubling the size of the game’s font and your cursor.

Overall, Planescape Torment is an exceptional game. The story is extremely well written and consistently held my attention for long hours at a time. If combat was presented differently, or could even bypassed altogether, I would consider this game near-perfect.