Recent reviews by Gerson Curi

Papyrus foi meu personagem favorito desde o primeiro encontro.
Ele não era só engraçado, ele era real: inseguro, exagerado, cheio de sonhos bobos e verdadeiros.
Aquele tipo de personagem que você quer proteger do mundo e levar pra jantar com sua família.

E, pra melhorar ainda mais, existe um sistema de nomear seu personagem, e eu coloquei Gerson, sem saber que era um personagem do jogo, e uma resposta especial para quando se escolhe Gerson é única. Senti até cagaço...(tão me observando????????)
Foi uma surpresa tão aleatória e boa que parecia que Undertale estava falando comigo pessoalmente.
É o tipo de coisa que deixa o coração quente e a cabeça cheia de teorias malucas.

Undertale é muito mais que lutinhas ou finais secretos.
É sobre empatia, escolhas e como até um esqueleto desastrado pode te ensinar a ser uma pessoa melhor.

A trilha sonora é maravilhosa, a história é brilhante, e a sensação de terminar o jogo (seja chorando ou rindo) fica com você como uma cicatriz bonita.

Se você nunca jogou, jogue.
Se você já jogou, jogue de novo.
E nunca, nunca subestime o poder de uma boa piada ruim contada por um esqueleto determinado.

Obrigado, Papyrus. E obrigado, Gerson secreto do jogo, por me fazer sorrir como um idiota.

Joguei Yakuza no PS2. Era outro tempo. Meu controle tava zoado, o loading demorava, mas eu nem ligava. Kiryu era meu herói. Voltar pro Kiwami foi tipo abrir uma carta antiga que você achava que tinha perdido.

Kiryu é foda. Sempre foi.
Majima é louco. Sempre foi.
E agora ele é mais doido ainda, te atacando em lugares absurdos só pra te lembrar que a vida precisa ser imprevisível. (MAJIMA EVERYWHEREEEEEE)

Depois de jogar o Yakuza 0, eu tomei um soco no estômago vendo o que fizeram com o Nishiki. Era pra eu odiar ele... mas, véi, não dá. Só sente pena. O cara afunda, e você afunda junto assistindo.

O combate melhorou um monte da versão de PS2.
Agora é rápido, pesado, e dá vontade de sair esmagando nóia japonês em todas as paredes de Kamurocho. A cidade tá linda, viva, cheia de maluquice nas missões secundárias que fazem você rir no meio da tristeza. (cuidado com homens de fralda!!!)

Não é só nostalgia.
É uma homenagem pra quem cresceu vendo esses caras.
E, caralho, que homenagem.

Resumo bruto:
Se você tem coração, joga.
Se você não tem, joga também pra ver se cresce um.

Nota pessoal: 10/10
Kiryu é o irmão mais velho que a vida não me deu. Majima é o caos que me manteve acordado. Nishiki é a lembrança de que, às vezes, a gente vira vilão tentando fazer o certo.

Rogue hits different.

I thought I knew the Assassins. Thought I understood the “freedom versus control” thing. Played AC3 and AC4 on PS3 back in the day. Saw Connor's and Edwards's fight, the messy politics, the gray areas — but it still had that hope in it.

Then I booted up Rogue years later on Steam and it just... felt wrong. In the right way.

You play as Shay, and from the start there’s this slow weight building. You’re part of the Brotherhood, doing what you’ve always done. Kill, climb, vanish. It’s routine. But something festers beneath it... And when it finally breaks, when Shay defects, the game stops being Assassin’s Creed and starts being something else entirely.

There’s no glory here. Just dread.
The more you hunt Assassins, the more you feel the collapse. These aren’t villains. These are your old friends. Your old faith. And you’re erasing them.

Mechanically it’s Black Flag with frostbite, sure. The sailing's familiar, the maps are tight, the action flows. But the tone?
Way darker.
The cold doesn’t just cover the landscape — it’s in the writing, the pacing, the way Shay doesn’t revel in what he becomes.

Rogue doesn’t want you to feel powerful. It wants you to feel haunted.

And it works.

It’s not as big as Black Flag. Not as revolutionary. But it does something bolder — it tells a story where everyone loses something, and the sea can’t wash away your past.

8.2/10
* Not the Assassin’s Creed I wanted.
* But maybe the one I needed to stop believing in Assassins.

First played this back in 2014, on a busted old PS3 that barely held 30fps when the water got choppy. Didn’t matter. I was in.

I didn’t know much about Assassin’s Creed lore at the time. Heard the name Desmond tossed around, saw some weird sci-fi bits, but when I hit Black Flag... that’s when it clicked. The whole "gods were ancient scientists" angle? Absolutely ate that up.
You’re not just stabbing redcoats. You’re brushing against echoes of something older, something buried. Every ruin you dive into feels like it wasn’t made for human hands.

But let’s be real: what stuck with me wasn’t just the lore — it was Edward. A man pretending he’s chasing gold, but deep down just trying to outrun the silence inside him. He's not a hero. He's a mess. Which makes him perfect.

The pirate stuff isn’t just good, it’s dangerously immersive. You find yourself ignoring missions just to sail around, collect sea shanties, and fight a storm like it insulted your mother.
Upgrades? Cannons? Harpooning? All solid.
But it’s the ocean that steals the show.
No fast travel. Just wind, sails, and the crew breaking into song. And it never got old.

Combat was fine, stealth was clunky (classic AC), but I didn’t care. I was too busy pretending my ship was haunted and that the moon had secrets.
Also: sneaking through temples built by precursor beings? Inject that into my veins.

Came back years later and it still holds. Even if some parts feel dated, the heart is untouched.

It’s not just a pirate game. It’s a story about freedom, loss, and legacy. With just enough ancient mystery to keep me thinking about it way after the credits rolled.

9.3/10
Played it for the sea. Stayed for the ghosts.

I don’t even remember the first time I played Terraria.

Somewhere back there, between homework and weird flash games, this pixel world showed up and never really left. I must’ve been what, 11? 12? I had no idea what I was doing. Built a box house. Died to slimes. Got scared when it turned night and I heard that zombie knock-knock sound.
And I loved it.

This game isn’t just a sandbox. It’s a time capsule.
There are pieces of me buried in old worlds I’ll never recover... Chests full of junk, a gravestone with some dumb inside joke about my friend Ferdinand, weird sky islands connected by rope because I didn’t know wings existed. (they didn't at the time)

I played it alone. Then with friends. Then alone again. And every time, it felt different. Terraria grows with you. You start with a stick and a dream. End up fighting literal gods of ancient space evil with weapons that fill the whole screen. And it never feels out of place.

It’s not just about progression. It’s about discovery. About that moment when you accidentally dig into a jungle biome and it all goes wrong. Or when you beat the Wall of Flesh and suddenly the world isn’t safe anymore.
Terraria doesn’t hold your hand. But it makes sure your curiosity is always rewarded — or punished, hilariously.

Coming back to it now, older, more jaded, I still get that same spark. Still feel like a kid messing around in a world that’s bigger than it looks. The music hits, and suddenly it’s a summer afternoon again.
No worries. Just me, a grappling hook, and some glowing mushrooms.

Terraria is a masterpiece. Quiet about it, but undeniable.
A game that gives you a world and says, “Go ahead. Break it. Build it. Get lost.”

I did. I still do.

10/10
It’s not just a game. It’s a part of me.

Okay, I’ll be honest. At first I bounced off this one.

Coming from XCOM 2, Chimera Squad felt like being dropped into a Saturday morning cartoon version of the apocalypse. Everyone had a name, a voice, a backstory. Where were my blank-slate rookies I could rename and mourn? Where was my full tactical control? Why was a Viper on my team?

And then something weird happened.
I kept playing.

Turns out, it grows on you. Like a weird urban mold with dialogue trees.

The alien integration stuff is great. This is the only XCOM where the “we actually won” narrative feels explored. You’re not saving the world anymore, you’re trying to hold together a messy, barely functioning city where humans and aliens are learning how to co-exist without exploding. It's like someone put a buddycop show into a high-pressure tactics game. I didn’t expect to care about these characters, but now I’d die for Terminal and Snake Mom.

Gameplay-wise, it's a totally different beast. Breach mechanics, turn order changes, no overwatch crawling. It forces you to think differently, act faster. At first it felt restrictive. Then I realized it was just... new. And that made me uncomfortable. Until it didn’t.

The writing leans into camp, but not in a bad way. If you’re allergic to banter, this might not be your game. But I started looking forward to hearing my team chat in the HQ. It gives the missions more weight, weirdly. You’re not sending another faceless ranger into the grinder. You’re sending Verge, who meditates with brains.

I played in short bursts. It’s structured that way. Less grand strategy, more tight operations. Works surprisingly well.

Chimera Squad won’t replace the core XCOM formula, and it’s clearly not trying to. But it fills a strange little niche in the universe that I didn’t know I wanted until I gave it a real shot.

Recommended, especially if you’ve got XCOM fatigue and want something lighter, faster, and still full of plasma to the face.

7.9/10. Weird little game. I kinda love it.

Didn’t think XCOM could get better after Enemy Within.
Turns out I was wrong.
Dead wrong. Like, "Avenger blown out of the sky by a Sectopod" wrong.

XCOM 2 flips the whole premise on its head.
You’re not defending Earth anymore.
You already lost.
The aliens are the government now! suits, holograms, propaganda!
And you?
You’re the terrorist.
The underdog.
The ghost in the machine.

And it works. God, it works so well.

Every mission feels like a heist.
Drop in, do the job, get out — or get wrecked.
There’s a timer. There’s always a timer.
The clock isn’t just gameplay anymore, it’s part of the lore.
They’re onto you. Always.

The new classes? Insane.
Rangers with swords.
Specialists who hack everything from drones to brains.
Psi operatives that make reality bend.
Even the rookies feel useful — until they die in a blaze of Sectoid induced panic.
(It happens. I don’t talk about Rookie Biriba anymore.)

The lore?
Chef’s kiss.
ADVENT is the perfect mask... Utopia on the surface, horror underneath.
You dig into alien files, read reports, and realize: this isn’t just an occupation.
It’s assimilation.
Slow. Surgical.
They want your species to thank them for it.

The voice acting? Fantastic.
The writing? Sharp enough.
The tone? Dystopian, but with hope. That sliver of “maybe we can win” — and that’s what keeps you going.

Even after 50+ hours, I still get nervous before a retaliation mission.
Still rename every soldier. Still get attached.
Still reload saves even when I swore I’d play Ironman.
Because yeah... It’s ♥♥♥♥♥♥♥ XCOM. And that means heartbreak.

9.8/10
XCOM 2 doesn’t just raise the stakes.
It burns the rulebook, hands you a ragtag crew, and says:
“Make them pay for what they did.”

And I did.
I still am.
Commander out.

Came back to this after years.
Played Enemy Unknown at launch, thought I was hot stuff. Got my squad wiped in Nigeria and learned humility.
Enemy Within?
Whole different beast.

The additions here aren't just extra content. They change the game entirely! Gene mods, MEC troopers, EXALT — it all adds new pressure to decisions that were already stressful. Suddenly you're not just choosing where to send satellites, you're deciding if it's worth turning your best sniper into a glowing-eyed genefreak just to survive the next terror mission.

And the lore? It goes deeper. The aliens aren’t just here to invade — they’re studying, adapting, shaping humanity like a science project.
And EXALT?
God. Betrayal has never been this smug.
But it fits. Of course there'd be people willing to sell out the species for a shot at post-invasion management positions.

Combat feels sharper. The threat feels bigger. Every soldier lost hurts.
And if you’ve played Ironman, you know what I mean.
One bad move and there goes the rookie you finally promoted after three flawless missions.
Gone.
Vaporized.
Mourned.
But the war keeps going.

It’s XCOM. You’ll miss a 95% shot and scream.
But this time around, you might grow some claws and fire a railgun while doing it.

Rating? 9.5/10
* If you liked Enemy Unknown and haven't tried this version, you're missing out.
* Enemy Within makes it personal. Makes it uglier. Makes it better.
* No regrets — except the ones buried with my squad. (miss you bruninho)

They told me not to play it.

Said it was broken. Said it was empty. Said it was online only, and that I’d need friends.
Well, jokes on them. I don’t have many friends nowadays.
Only my pistol, my base near the creek, and the sound of wind howling through dead trees while I cook mole rat chunks in silence.

Fallout 76 is weird. It's not good in the traditional sense.
But it’s not bad either.
It’s like a ghost town that decided to keep existing out of stubbornness.
And I respect that.

The world is beautiful in a way only Fallout can do — full depre-lux americana.
West Virginia looks like a fever dream.
Mountains glowing with radiation. Scorched monsters screaming into nothing. The kind of place you wander alone at 2 a.m. wondering if this was all meant to be... or if Todd Howard is just gaslighting you.

Yes, it’s a live service.
Yes, there are season passes, atom shops, and random events that pop like confetti out of a vault door.
But underneath all that corporate slime, there’s still Fallout beating in its twisted little heart.
You build your home.
You hunt mutants.
You read everything because no one's there to talk to you.
You feel the silence. It becomes your friend.

The writing is actually solid now — way better than people give it credit for.
The Wastelanders update brought life back, NPCs, choices, factions.
Still not New Vegas, but it’s trying. Like a mutant dog that learned a new trick just to see you smile.

I don’t do raids. I don’t team up.
I walk alone.
Me and my radio, broadcasting into the void.
And sometimes… sometimes, that’s enough.

7.8/10
Fallout 76 is a haunted MMO.
Lonely, glitchy, oddly sincere.
If you treat it like a theme park you broke into after the world ended — it’s kind of perfect.

Fallout 3 is the moment you realize that just because someone has the rights to the universe, doesn’t mean they understand its soul.

Yes, the wasteland is big. Yes, Liam Neeson voices your dad. Yes, the nukes went boom and now we all wear rags and drink out of toilets.
But where’s the point?

The world is full of cool ruins, but no reason to care.
Choices exist, but they rarely echo.
Morality is a light switch — good, bad, or "slightly sarcastic, but still heroic".
And the writing?
Feels like it was scrawled on a diner napkin during a Fallout 1 speedrun by someone who thought the Master was "too wordy."

I tried. I really did. I walked the empty streets, read the terminals, followed Dad like a good Vault child.
But every quest felt like a checklist.
"Go here, shoot that. Pick karma flavor: vanilla or chainsaw."

It has its moments.
Megaton? Iconic.
Galaxy News Radio? Banger.
The Capital Wasteland has atmosphere, I’ll give it that.
It feels post-apocalyptic. Just doesn’t say anything with it.

Where New Vegas debated philosophy with you over a drink, Fallout 3 pats you on the head and says, “War never changes,” before sending you to find a water purifier like you're in some kind of rusty messiah simulator.

And that ending? Don’t even get me started. They made a whole DLC just to apologize for it.

Still, I respect it for keeping Fallout alive long enough for Obsidian to pick up the pieces and remind us why we fell in love with irradiated morality in the first place.

6.5/10
Great setting.
Mid soul.
Fallout for tourists.