End of year lists are usually a pretty cut  and dry thing for me.
  A nice way to round out what has, inevitably,  been an amazing year for games, one that will
  go down in the history books, right?
  Well, as 2018 comes to a close, I find it  hard to muster that kind of excitement this
  time around.
  The thought of making a year-end video, for  a good chunk of 2018, has filled me with worry
  about what I would actually include.
  My video game critic galaxy brain would like  to philosophise about how 2017 so rejigged
  our conceptions of established genre norms  and redefined how games could tell their stories
  through mechanics – within the AAA space,  I might add – that the decidedly cinematic
  experiences people were holding up as these  generation-defining games felt more like they
  defined the last generation than this one.
  And while I think there's some truth in  that, it's probably more likely that, honestly,
  I was feeling a little burned out on games  in general this year.
  I've been doing YouTube for over three years  now at the expense of pretty much everything
  else, so it was probably inevitable that something  was going to give at some point.
  I won't bore you but things got pretty bad—the  idea of approaching a word processor terrified
  me at times.
  Moreso than in other years, then, 2018 has  been defined by the focus I placed on myself.
  I spent much less time online and more time  focused on the world around me, the people
  I care about.
  I read more and watched more movies again.
  I went to places I'd never been.
  I tried to place restrictions on the hours  I was working so I wasn't simply writing
  and editing until I collapsed as was the case  previously.
  It probably hurt channel growth, but I realised  how little that mattered to me, as long as
  I'm healthy and doing what I love.
  It resulted in a marked improvement in my  efficiency, a renewed inspiration from expanding
  my horizons and a lot of, if not my most viewed  work, definitely the work I value the most.
  What's more, this realisation happened to  coincide with a latter half of the year featuring
  an onslaught of new releases which, regardless  of their individual quality, reminded me that
  there's still a lot I want to say about  games (as well as cementing that, in the year
  to come, I'll probably be focusing less  on outright terrible releases than I did this
  year, instead celebrating what I enjoy).
  In summary, this list is weird.
  It's not filled to the brim with my favourite  games of all time or the most transcendent
  experiences, but it is a comprehensive look  at the games that stuck with me, for whatever
  reason, in a year where I needed them to stick  with me the most.
  So without further ado, here is the Writing  on Games Top Five Games of 2018 (that I played,
  obviously, and there are many games I didn't  get around to), with some honourable mentions
  for good measure!
  And in at number five we have…
  5.
  Yakuza 6
  This game features a scene in which a muscled  ex-Yakuza in a dad shirt stares down a bunch
  of balaclava-clad men and an ostentatious  Korean mob boss, all while the stars of Battle
  Royale play rugby with a baby.
  If I was to tell you that said game of baby  rugby, besides featuring some of the funniest
  shots I've seen all year, had me clenching  my teeth it was so tense, you probably wouldn't
  believe me.
  But this is the state of things in Yakuza  6; its brash, loud, colourful demeanour belying
  a humanity and heart that most games can only  dream of achieving—with every part that
  you'd think would ring dissonantly in fact  only helping to sell me on its utterly singular
  vision.
  Its new engine simplifies combat in favour  of hammering home the bone-crunching weight
  of every punch and putting you more directly  in control of situations previously relegated
  to its over-the-top heat actions, but they  also show more closely the wrinkles in Kiryu's
  now-grizzled face; highlighting the fact that  this is a man who has seen some stuff.
  Playing perfectly into the game's story  of this man, who just wants to help everyone
  at the end of the day, being forced to come  to terms with the fact that the world around
  him, the gangster life and Japan he knew,  is moving on and leaving him and his values
  behind.
  The fact that Kiryu's send-off relegates  so much of the supporting cast we've come
  to know and love to near-absence, combined  with the yearning I had for a more satisfying
  conclusion to a game whose conspiracies were  so dense and ever-changing that they were
  as confusing to me as they likely were to  Kiryu, means that it doesn't quite reach
  the dazzlingly cohesive highs of last year's  localisation of 0.
  But at a time where game after game felt so  dull and grey, Yakuza 6 showed me that there
  was still room in games for glorious flamboyance.
  Don't ever change, Kiryu.
  And in at number 4 we have…
  4.
  Red Dead Redemption 2
  Red Dead 2, on the surface, plays it safe.
  Mechanically, it's GTAV except the travels  between its run-of-the-mill shootouts are
  longer and more automatic.
  It flat out rejects even the slightest deviations  from its ridiculously rigid mission structures;
  its gameplay coming firmly second to its filmic  ambitions which it only partially realises.
  In terms of that larger story, however, and  the ways in which this world is sold to you,
  Rockstar's approach is risky as hell.
  You're taking one of the most anticipated  games of all time, from perhaps the canonical
  developer of the sandbox game as we know it,  and you're forcing players to endure the
  absolute minutiae of your world because Rockstar  has a story to tell and by god you're going
  to experience it.
  And while it's barely conveyed through gameplay  during missions, what a story it is; a remarkable
  tale of characters coming to terms with the  onward march of civilisation and the destruction
  it will wreak on their way of life, each splintering  off from the group for their own reasons as
  its leader Dutch begins to unfurl into the  egotistical maniac he probably always was.
  The game's immense length allows for moments  where amongst the tension and the fun of being
  an outlaw, one little thing will change, the  tiniest detail will slip; enough to sow the
  seeds of doubt in Arthur but not enough to  remove Dutch of his charm, leading to beautiful
  powder keg moments where you suddenly realise  how different things are now, and wonder how
  you got roped along in the first place.
  That said, the cracks begin to show more widely  in its detail-oriented worldbuilding when
  you're ducked behind cover getting shot  at and, thanks to the game's poorly-realised
  survival mechanics, you're chewing on a  lamb shank thinking "this would do a much
  better job of healing my bullet holes if it  had some oregano on it."
  In short, Red Dead 2 has problems.
  But in a game this vast, with so many interconnected  systems and environments and a rich, winding
  story… some inconsistencies are bound to  occur.
  It's one of those situations where the amount  of bold swings they took, for me, excuse the
  many times they missed.
  I stand by my assertion that it's more TV  show than game, but goddamn that TV show is
  good.
  And at number 3 we have…
  3.
  Forza Horizon 4
  There's something gloriously dystopian to  the supposed utopia Horizon presents to you.
  It's a world in which the few humans you  do come across exist solely to give you cars
  and houses and tell you how good you are in  as patronising a way as possible; congratulating
  you for spinning around on various landmarks  across the country in your dumb hat before
  you go on a consequence-free rampage through  middle England as invaded by EDM car fetishists;
  hellbent on destroying the country one National  Trust-protected wall at a time—all while
  providing constant offering to The All-Encompassing  Social Network That Shall Not Be Named.
  In all seriousness it probably seems a little  quaint that a game like Forza gets so high
  on my list; I'm not even a big car guy so  I'm not in it for the money shots or the
  culture.
  That said there's something that's always  relaxed me about the purity of a good racing
  game.
  There's a comforting lack of equivocation  in "start, go fast and finish first" and
  in a year where I found real value in media  that allowed me to get out of my own head,
  the popping visual aesthetic of the game's  world, soundtracked by the chilliest of liquid
  drum'n'bass served as a much-needed emotional  salve.
  It also helps that the game feels so good  to play on the most basic mechanical level;
  its delicate balance of sim-like weight and  arcade-type speed combined with the winding
  roads of the British countryside lead to races  that are as breathtaking as they are nail-biting,
  and every stretch of road, with its multiple  challenges, encourages you to go as fast as
  possible.
  Each car the game generously doles out to  you features wildly varying handling models,
  bolstered by changing seasons; actively requiring  you to mess around to find which car is best
  suited to which time of the year.
  All of this to say that Horizon was a far  richer experience for me than I ever could
  have imagined going in.
  Its sheer speed at times made it feel like  the closest we're going to get to a new
  Burnout game minus the wreckages.
  Its overly-exuberant tone (combined with its  oddly dystopic allusions I mentioned earl
  ier) should have annoyed the hell out of me  but went so far as to come back around to
  genuine charm.
  It might seem odd for some, but Forza Horizon  4 was simply some of the most fun I had with
  any game this year.
  And my runner-up for game of the year is…
  2.
  Spider-Man
  By all accounts, I was fully ready to dismiss  Insomniac's Marvel's Spider-Man as a glossier
  version of all the other failed attempts to  recreate that seemingly unknowable magic of
  2.
  For all of Insomniac's bluster, I couldn't  shake the feeling that every trailer made
  its swinging look too automatic for the novelty  to sustain itself, and that its combat looked
  like any other title aping the punch-punch-counter  style made famous by the Arkham games.
  Hell, I got my hands on it prior to launch  at Gamescom and my worry only grew that this
  would be yet another disappointment in a year  replete with them.
  Boy, how wrong I was.
  Once I got my hands on it for a decent chunk  of time, I came to realise the lengths the
  game goes to in order to make your most minute  interactions feel as engaging as possible—turning
  it into one of the most joyous experiences  I had this year.
  The mere act of traversal – often overlooked  by games in favour of getting to the meat
  as quickly as possible - felt good; less concerned  with how cool it would look to hold a button
  and arc from the top of a swing to the bottom  and more concerned with how good it would
  feel to maintain your speed in as straight  a line as possible, trying to correctly time
  point-launches wherever possible for that  oh-so-satisfying boom.
  In combat, it wasn't enough to simply watch  for your Spidey-sense then hit a button to
  warp across the room to counter the incoming  attack.
  No, you had to intuit your surroundings more  than that and get out of the way, leading
  to an altogether more frantic and frenetic  series of events that placed you in direct
  control of its comic book-style action.
  What's more, its surprisingly gripping story  is given enough time to flesh out its villains,
  allowing Insomniac to provide their own flavour  to backstories established decades prior,
  leading to some emotionally torturous yet  gloriously cathartic moments for our protagonist,
  with enough levity thrown in around the mundanities  of Peter Parker's personal life to maintain
  the childlike joy found in its mechanics;  leading to the kind of game that had me as
  enthralled by the trajectory of these villains  as it had me gawking at how cool their costumes
  look.
  Spider-Man reminded me that games didn't  need to wallow in self-seriousness to have
  a profound impact on players; it just made  me happy and in 2018 in particular, that feels
  particularly worthy of commendation.
  And before we get to our winner, here are  some unordered HONOURABLE MENTIONS:
  Next Car Game finally emerged from early access  this year as Wreckfest and, following immediately
  after the wasteland of aggressively awful  handling and content that was The Crew 2,
  it felt good to wield a car as if it were  a goddamn weapon.
  Its wealth and sheer variety of activities  sees it land the transition from physics demo
  to full-fledged game, while Its damage models  appear to have been fine-tuned since I last
  played it years ago; allowing you the opportunity  to fully utilise a car's weight as you use
  other cars as turning aids, without writing  off your vehicle in the process.
  In short, Wreckfest makes you feel powerful.
  There's an incredible ten to fifteen hours  in Assassin's Creed Odyssey's sixty hours,
  but you can pay to make it thirty if you want.
  That's the dilemma I face with the latest  entry in Ubisoft's long-running franchise,
  where for every forward step this sequel took,  it was stretched so thin for the sake of sheer
  content and some of the most egregious single-player  microtransactions I've ever come across.
  The only reason it was so frustrating, however,  was due to the fact that when everything comes
  together, Odyssey hits surprisingly hard;  with a story that allows its characters to
  get lost in the excess of ancient Greece without  worrying too much about the larger plot, and
  gameplay that lets up on the series' rigidity  to make for instances of true chaos.
  I know I've harped on about it a lot but  look at all these chickens!
  On the perhaps less well-known side of the  spectrum, Paratopic immediately grabbed my
  attention by basically looking like a PS1  title and held it by the fact that it's
  a forty minute game in a sea of these vast  time sinks.
  What I wasn't expecting when I booted it  up, however, was that these descriptors would
  end up doing a disservice to the wonderful  horror experience within.
  I've played through those densely-packed  forty minutes multiple times, each go-around
  uncovering something new about its cryptic  mystery.
  Its aesthetic ends up playing very directly  into its horror, being toyed with in such
  a way as to draw on your nostalgia while also  heightening the unsettling loneliness of its
  eerily beautiful world.
  If the idea of Silent Hill directed by David  Lynch interests you and you've got half
  an hour to spare, Paratopic should be your  next port of call.
  And in the sea of impressive remasters giving  me an excuse to go back and find that spark
  recent titles weren't giving me, you can  now buy Killer7 on PC.
  In full HD at 60fps.
  In a port that only serves to compound the  game's inherent weirdness.
  It's one of my top three games of all time.
  I'll have a video on the port in the new  year but for now, just play it.
  Play.
  It.
  Now.
  All of which brings us to my number one game  of 2018 which is…
  1.
  Hitman 2
  I cannot tell you how happy I am to have more  Hitman in my life.
  After the overlords at Square Enix decided  the first season – one of my favourite games
  of all time - was apparently a failure (before,  I might add, going on to release The goddamn
  Quiet Man), I was stunned and unbearably disappointed  that we wouldn't see the full potential
  shown by its first season wholly explored.
  And while IO's reclamation of the license  and production of yet another season might
  prove to be a legitimate financial failure,  that fact is made all the more gut-wrenching
  by just how absolutely the opposite is true  of its magnificent gameplay and the treasure
  trove of content provided to players for their  buck.
  It's more Hitman, for sure, but it's better  Hitman.
  They take the strengths of the map design  in the first game – namely that, as opposed
  to being large for the sake of it, what matters  is how the different sections of those maps
  connect with each other – and somehow apply  that principle to some of the most gargantuan
  levels across the entire reboot.
  Maps have a verticality that was perhaps lacking  in some of 2016's environments—encouraging
  you to affect things on one end of the map  from the complete opposite point and, with
  all the challenges and extra modes the game  provides, you're incentivised to experiment
  and try new approaches; with new features  adding breadth that opens up the possibility
  of things like sniping, and encourages you  to get a bit more bold with the game's stealth
  mechanics; taking the first game's "hiding  in plain sight" approach and morphing it
  into just straight up "hiding".
  But it's not just the maps that are interconnected;  the mechanics speak to the game's more nuanced
  and cohesive approach to storytelling this  time around.
  And by that I don't mean the overall story  that, for as inconsequential as it ends up
  being, is a pleasingly shlocky romp that sees  you taking on the most comically evil villains
  one could imagine while simultaneously making  you question just how old 47 actually is.
  No, the real meat of the game's narrative  comes in its little moments where you realise,
  for example, that 47 is not only a renaissance  man, not simply a musician but specifically
  a drummer, at least primarily.
  It draws and expands upon this weird lore  they set up in the first game, and fits eerily
  well with the cold, calculated rhythm required  to steady your breathing while aiming down
  a scope and getting a beat on your target.
  Helping an assassin do your job for you is  one of the most wonderful sequences I've
  experienced in a game all year; seeing you  explore and affect almost every area on Mumbai's
  incredible map, with the moment being made  all the better by the fact that, as evidenced
  by his inability to do something as basic  as focus a rifle, this guy you're helping
  is… kind of incompetent; that despite your  disguises being laughably transparent to anyone
  other than a cluster of clockwork AI patterns,  somehow you are still the best assassin in
  the world.
  Hitman, with its overtly video game-y look  and feel and campy story doesn't seem like
  the kind of game you'd need top quality  writers for.
  But I feel their presence; they know.
  They're clearly aware that one of the biggest  draws of the first game was the unassuming
  nature of its player-driven screwball comedy;  the ways in which the player, in a game about
  a ruthless, cold assassin, could place a wrench  in these apparently normal scenarios, seeing
  the entire thing devolve into an inhuman mess  in a matter of seconds.
  The developers wrote it in this time; they  crafted scenarios that not only played to
  the strengths of its level design but worked  with this weird fiction they ended up creating
  around 47.
  And their dedication to it – in knowing  when to put their hands up and say "this
  game is better for this weird thing even if  other developers might strive to fix it"
  – is a restraint, a commitment that I can  only admire.
  Hitman 2 has made me laugh as much as it's  had me biting my nails; it encourages me to
  think creatively about approaches to missions  I wouldn't have considered in 2016's game.
  And in a year that at one point had me craving  a game, any game that wouldn't just leave
  me completely cold, for Hitman 2 to annihilate  that exceedingly low bar was such a breath
  of fresh air, making it a game that I'll  be playing long into 2019.
  And so concludes my list of games of the year.
  But in reflecting on this year, the games  themselves feel like such a small part of
  the bigger picture when so much of what inspired  me to keep going was found outside of games;
  mainly, it was the love and support of the  people around me and in order to give something
  back, I thought it would be nice to do what  I did earlier in the year and shout out some
  smaller channels run by people who offered  support, whose work inspired me in some way
  and crucially are well worth your time.
  Given the rather shadowy workings of the video  game industry, real actual journalism in the
  field is pretty rare.
  Game Brain's dedication to find the people  behind the games and bring their stories to
  light, then, is really commendable.
  Not only is he a great writer, he's managed  to discuss game design with Chris Rausch (one
  of the designers of the original Pro Skater),  he's talked with one of the developers of
  the original GTA about the time he spilled  blood on Miyamoto, among many other things.
  Game Brain is going above and beyond most  other channels to explore the weird and wacky
  side of this industry we might otherwise never  see, and for that I think you should check
  him out.
  MML Commentaries is able to use his personal  family experiences playing a board game to
  explore the socio-economic origins of Monopoly.
  He's able to deftly explore journalistic  ethics as theoretically defined one minute,
  before opening himself up to explore the existential  horror of online life the next.
  In other words, his videos are some of the  most effective and impactful attempts to bridge
  that gap between the deeply academic and wildly  personal reasons we're attracted to media
  I've seen in my entire time on this site.
  If you're looking for something unrelated  to games, my good friend In/Frame/Out made
  his foray onto the YouTube scene a few months  ago and the level of quality already on show
  is quite something.
  His exceptionally articulate and conversational  writing style combined with slick presentation
  and a subtle sense of humour easily puts him  up there with the likes of Channel Criswell
  in my eyes.
  And if I've said it once I've said it  a million times – go subscribe to Lambhoot.
  His ability to mix super technical analysis  of games from a software development perspective
  and an utterly impeccable sense of comedic  timing make him the most criminally undersubscribed
  channel on this website.
  If you do one thing today, go and watch his  videos and let him know dad sent you.
  He will appreciate it.
  Which brings me onto my patrons—I say this  at the end of every video but I really cannot
  state this enough, your support (not just  monetarily – although that definitely does
  help - but the words of encouragement and  the messages letting me know how much my work
  meant to you) was absolutely what kept me  going this year and what will see the channel
  grow for a long time to come.
  You are directly responsible for the amount  of videos that I was able to make this year,
  as well as ensuring that I was able to keep  improving in terms of quality.
  You inspired me to keep going through the  tough times and get better and I will never
  be able to thank you enough for that.
  In particular I'd like to thank Mark B Writing,  Rob, Nico Bleackley, Michael Wolf, Artjom
  Vitsjuk, Ali Almuhanna, Timothy Jones, Spike  Jones, Laserpferd, TheNamlessGuy, Chris Wright,
  Ham Migas, Travis Bennett, Zach Casserly,  Samuel Pickens, Tom Nash, Shardfire, Ana Pimentel,
  Jessie Rine, Brandon Robinson, Justins Holderness,  Christian Konemann, Mathieu Nachury, Nicolas
  Ross and Charlie Yang.
  And with that, this has been another episode  of Writing on Games.
  Stay safe this New Year and I'll see you  in 2019.
     
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