Top Stuff of 2025 – Top 10 Videogames

So, well… that’s 2025. Woohoo? I think few would call it one of their favorite trips around the sun—and yet, if you’re reading this, you’re still here, and I say that counts for a lot. In the meantime, too, some pretty remarkable videogames debuted on our screens! In deciding which to play, and which I then loved, I’ll admit it: I’m no tastemaker. I like what I like, and that typically involves at least one explosion or zombie per hour. Per usual, then, some critical darlings didn’t grab my attention, so you won’t find Citizen Sleeper 2 or Despelote among the annual accolades. Also, sorry, Silksong was way too hard. Still, whether for intellectual engagement or just a madcap free-for-all, ten in particular this year went down as prospective classics!

When Wolfenstein ward MachineGames was tapped to produce a new Indiana Jones, it was the “yeah, makes sense” heard ‘round the world. But unlike that other series about an all-American hero popping paranormal fascists, The Great Circle prioritizes feeling like Indy over being yet another FPS, and it’s one of this generation’s most exciting AAA offerings for it. Intervening imitators like Uncharted haven’t rendered Indy obsolete; there’s bullets to spare, but you’ll more often be cracking whips and quips, donning disguises, wolfing down food, or consulting textbooks to up your odds of surviving the next spike trap. Between Harrison Ford’s era-appropriate likeness and celeb VA Troy Baker’s uncanny imitation, it’s as if Dr. Jones really did gain eternal life upon drinking from the Grail! For a guy whose boyhood was built on flicks like Raiders of the Lost Ark (here recalled as a tutorial)—and with a lot of unpunched Nazis rising in power—this globetrotting thrill ride was just what I needed to kick off 2025. Let’s hear it for one of Tony Todd’s final performances, too!

I grew up in a Nintendo household, which means my current CV includes a part-time position complaining about their new stuff. Imagine my pleasant surprise, then, when—after a mid Paper Mario crossover and a pair of remakes—the Mario & Luigi subseries pulled into port with a fresh bounty of fun. M&L has long been a bastion of weird humor and clever gameplay, and Brothership’s got both in abundance, alternating between captaining the vessel in question and traversing islands full of oddball obstacles. The opening may be slow, but as the ocean expands, the theme of connection—literal and figurative—permeates plot and art design alike, culminating in the eerie/epic climax I’ve come to love from Mario RPGs. For as long as it’s been in their joint moniker, the bond between these plucky plumbers has rarely been explored by their games. As a sibling myself, I was elated to see what makes these bros so super finally honored.

Circa Y2K, a certain template came to be associated with games that were, in the parlance of the period, “very Japanese”: garish, absurd, juvenile, and only occasionally profitable. In hindsight, how Westerners regarded these imports could be… dicey, but through said window of opportunity tumbled Katamari Damacy—and thank the King of All Cosmos for that! Once Upon a Katamari knows its strengths, and they’re the same as two decades ago: charmingly blocky visuals, an exuberant soundtrack, and the perpetual dark comedy of effectively becoming an apocalyptic dung beetle. A time-travel premise keeps environments more varied than ever, though, and a few quality-of-life improvements make navigation a breeze (comparatively; you’re still steering a sphere). From the opening notes to when credits literally roll, it’s a crazy yet cozy joy. What can I say—I had a ball!

It’s one thing to make a game beautiful, it’s another to make it entertaining to play, not just to watch. Many of my favorites (including some to follow) succeed at both, but few have that formula on lock like Giant Squid, whose unions of art director Matt Nava and composer Austin Wintory birth some of the most breathtaking play-centric experiences around. In 2025, they followed up ABZÛ and The Pathless with another game about a lithe loner speedily restoring life to a desolate realm… but this time, you can do sick tricks. “X-Games meets Journey” shouldn’t work; that it does is a testament to the creativity it takes to sculpt what could be just another pensive platformer into something unforgettable.

Skate Story - IGN

Is there an echo in here? Perhaps, but I think this artful, alliterative sports sim is even better than the last. Whereas Sword of the Sea tends to literally coast on its association with spiritual sisters, Skate Story embraces the spooky yet silly flavor for which Devolver Digital is known. Thrust into the Vans of a “demon made of glass and pain,” you just want to sate your hunger but must descend through an urban, bureaucratic Underworld to do so… trusty board in hand. Developer Sam Eng has crafted a katabasis as rebellious as its protagonist, where cutscenes bleed and glimmer into the letterbox, and poetry pours forth alongside ollies and kickflips. This is radical folklore, the “Haunted PS1” ethos applied to another now-nostalgic genre, infectious soundtrack/stunt-centric speedways and all. Take away my Millennial card if you wish, but I never got into Tony Hawk’s Pro Skater—now, I’m counting the minutes until I can grind those hellish curbs once more.

At any game trailers showcase, it’s tempting to say “take a shot every time you’re a guy with a sword,” but I’d hate to encourage binge drinking. Lots of trends have their hooks in mainstream gaming, not all of which welcome stories with different stars or settings. As such, South of Midnight—the rare Xbox semi-exclusive, as Microsoft shuffles off their console-war coil—was a unique delight: a story-driven action game about women of color with lore, looks, and music steeped in the Deep South. You’re still traversing otherworldly environs and slashing baddies to clear up supernatural gunk, sure—certain boxes were always going to be checked for a release this relatively high-profile. From its catfish companion to its compassionate conclusion, however, this remains a gorgeous tale of uncommon empathy and flair.

It was a dark joke for a while how little Konami seemed to value one of its flagship franchises, relegating a pillar of survival horror to skate decks and pachinko parlors. More recently, however, the publisher has thought twice, and after overseeing a laudable SH2 redo, 2025 was the year they pressed F to pay respects. Gone is the American Anytown of preceding entries, replaced with postwar rural Japan and a cast of schoolchildren, and yet—expanded combat and inventory aside—the series has returned to its roots as deeply as the bloody blooms polluting our heroine’s hometown. The mist, the mystery, the nightmarish knowledge that something is very wrong even as you must trudge forward: it’s all here, in service of a dive into the psyche of a teenage girl which makes the title stand out despite that lower case (there’s a reason this isn’t Silent Hill m). As ever, can’t promise I’ll do another run just to get a better ending, but this descent into madness left a deep mark on me all the same.

My thumb hurts. I started thinking that after only a few hours of Doom: The Dark Ages, which was only a few hours from its end (inevitable DLC pending). I still wanted more. This is not a thinking man’s game: at least on “Normal,” enemies telegraph attacks with intersection-sized light shows, and—unlike its predecessor’s resource-slim fracases—a pocket armory means the only thing you’ll see less than an empty magazine is a square inch unsplattered with guts. Ignore the metalhead storytelling if you please, then, but the animal excitement of charging into battle remains, this time across missions which range from medieval to Lovecraftian. Equipped with a buzzsaw shield that’s part Captain America, part Marcus Fenix, the Doomslayer has never been more aptly named, while dragon-riding segments infuse the wide-linear levels with welcome aerial variety. Also, this game contains the coolest image ever depicted, in any visual format: fist-fighting Cthulhu, in a mech, in Hell. God of War may no longer be with us, but in carrying on its gory yet gleeful irreverence, Doom reigns eternal.

Is Bloober Team in their redemption era? Unlike some critics, I never begrudged the studio for honoring their influences, but there’s no denying Bloober got big off the backs of any horror game that wasn’t nailed down. In Cronos, that template is Dead Space with a dash of Control, and yet the result is a trippy, traumatic downward spiral greater than the sum of its goopy parts. Cast as “The Traveler,” your armor may shine, but you’re no knight—what few survivors remain cower at your approach, and the world may not be worth saving. Fights are grueling, checkpoints scarce, but for hearkening back to Aughts shooters in aesthetics as much as tone, the difficulty’s only fitting. More than any satisfying headshot, the curiosity to find out what happened to this ruined alt-80’s Poland and why kept me stomping forth (hint: social distancing remains prudent). It’s alien yet human, grotesque yet enthralling, and rife with the moral quandaries that great sci-fi presents. And if you die, don’t worry… just try again. Such is our calling.

Once you’ve made a game about a canned fetus helping you throw pee grenades at interdimensional ghosts for Guillermo del Toro… how, exactly, do you follow up? For professional geek Hideo Kojima, the answer was—ironically—more of the same. Death Stranding 2 is, by some margin, the safest the rock-star dev’s ever played it: same doomsday DoorDashing, same rush of thumbs-uping holograms as you pop wheelies over rocky terrain, even another subplot about getting sucked into warfare against spooky skeletons and a mysterious man from your past. To say Death Stranding saved my life would only barely be exaggeration, so in truth, DS2 did leave me wanting more—and, in its newfound trigger-happiness, wanting less. Compared to peers, though, even average Kojima is still a top-fiver! The ethereal playlists, the lifelike graphics, Troy Baker (hello again!) chewing enough scenery to injure his jaw, the Yoji Shinkawa art design making it clear this dude really just wants another Metal Gear… it’s a lot, and not all of it works. If you’re out, I get it—but if you’re in, keep on keepin’ on.

In 2010, in ostensible lead-up to that year’s big Wii release, Nintendo announced a pending trademark for “it’s on like Donkey Kong.” Stay classy, guys. Still, the phrase didn’t accrue value out of nowhere—owing to his villainous origins (and existing history of legal action), DK was a uniquely violent mascot before Mario or even Wario started throwing hands. In that spirit, Donkey Kong Bananza sees DK barreling out of hiatus and through the planet itself without missing a (jungle) beat, for a whole new spin on the collectathon. Games have explored terrain deformation before, but how thoroughly Bananza commits to the bit(s) makes every level a literal sandbox of colorful chaos. Punching one’s way through a nod back to King Kong’s Hollow Earth would be a pleasure enough, but—petite Pauline in tow—there’s endearing banter, DJ interludes, and countless side objectives to keep the good vibes going. Joycons equipped, I dare you to spend five minutes in this great ape’s necktie and not walk away with sweaty palms, craving crunchy bananas. The console may have launched with Mario Kart World (meh), but in reminding us what exhilarating wonders The Big N can still muster when they apply themselves, this is the Switch 2’s killer app.

When you leave your twenties, so kids say, you’re washed—cooked, chopped, probably some other state that doubles as a baking verb. It can be good for a laugh, the occasional meme riffing on mortality’s unyielding march. But what if it was true? What if, once you hit 33, you died—not just died, but turned into flowers, becoming a memorial to your own grave never to be dug? Last year, that cap was 34; next year, it’ll be 32. Do you see a pattern?

That’s where Expedition 33 starts. Where it goes is both a showcase of and tribute to every act of creation that makes life worth living: fashion, painting, acting, writing, singing, dancing, and yes, playing games. Teeth cut at Ubisoft, the upstarts of Sandfall Interactive take the stylish turn-based combat of Persona 5 out of high school and into high fantasy, for an epic adventure across lands influenced by French culture yet teeming with engrossing characters and magic all their own. E33 is a spectacle without question, particle effects absolutely going off as you lob spells and frisson-inducing parries at monsters. More than any glossy cinematic, though—and even despite undeniable flaws (some odd HUD omissions, and get outta here with Gestral challenges)—it’s the little things that moved me most. A “we” before the standard “continue” on your post-battle summary. A buff, granted by an ailing boss, that makes you wonder whose side you should be on. The story of a party member’s scar, hidden behind fearless eyes and campfire conversation. A death, sudden and undeserved, with others to follow.

Live long enough, and you’ll face grief. Tragedy. Loss. In those moments, it’s tempting to want to shut down, to retreat into a special place where everything’s okay. As a child, that place was some of the first games I ever played, RPG classics like Dragon Quest and Chrono Trigger. To meet E33 at the titular age was coincidence on my part, but it still feels meaningful, like the medium that raised me coming back to teach new lessons. Heading into 2026, the biggest dream Clair Obscur (and, with luck, more entries under that banner) presents is a society where people care about future generations. But fantasies can educate us, inspire us to make the implausible inevitable. This world isn’t going to save itself—it’s up to us. But not just for us. For those who come after.

TOP GAMES OF 2024

And with that, 2024 comes to a close. Not a moment too soon, many may argue, and understandably so! Wherever you live, whatever you do for a living, it often felt like there wasn’t much to get excited about, to say nothing of 2025 creeping around the bend. But with that New Year comes an occasion for hindsight, and with rose-tinted glasses equipped, I found there was actually an abundance of great games which dropped over those 366 days. I didn’t have a chance to make my way through some folks’ favorite titles, like Metaphor: ReFantazio or FFVII Rebirth, but among those I did, a select set stood out as especially exciting, addictive, or otherwise unforgettable. These are…. my Top Ten Games of 2024.

If you were to program an interactive museum of everything broken about American pop culture—obscene production budgets, gambling disguised as loot boxes, stories whose moral starts at “might” and ends at “makes right”—it’d look like Call of Duty. Having long since mutated from mere shooter franchise to something like a jingoistic Fortnite, I conscientiously objected to the last couple CODs, if not for their ethics then just for what a hassle it is to dig any given story mode out from beneath layers of launcher menus and juvenile DLC promos. But then a certain subseries reemerged from the shadows—with an unprecedented same-day Game Pass drop, no less. I don’t do multiplayer or Zombies, but for however brief a time, the campaign for Call of Duty: Black Ops 6 was my guilty pleasure of the year. The lifelike graphics, the taut controls for a suite of combat options, the reckless delirium of positioning serious real-world events alongside tinfoil-hatted sci-fi, the globetrotting level design with setpieces to rival Naughty Dog… like it or not, this is what gaming looks and plays like when the resources of the U.S. military and Activision-Blizzard combine. I wouldn’t call it art, and it’s got nothing to say about politics that might interfere with selling Nicki Minaj costumes, but if you like action media, period, then you owe it to yourself to go dark and accept this mission.

On paper (a stained note lying in an abandoned diner, one must imagine), Silent Hill 2 2024 was going to be a disaster: a remake of one of the most acclaimed titles ever, published by the company that canned a new entry to focus on pachinko and developed by a studio known for tacky rip-offs? Purists indeed scoffed, dismissing the result as too conventional, too fixated on aggro gross-out moments in lieu of the source material’s subtler, more evocative torment. I sympathize with such critiques, and yet it’s been a while since I played a horror game which had me so glued to the red-drenched screen. Calling upon the camera and graphical overhauls by which Capcom modernized Resident Evil 2 through 4, Bloober Team breathe new afterlife into the misty burg while still retaining the pathos and surrealness which distinguished the 2001 original. Combat is responsive yet appropriately haphazard, riddles are tricky yet intelligible, and while I’ve never been all in on Akira Yamaoka’s rock-meets-ambient score, the music remains a nightmarish feast for the ears. There’s just enough familiar to revel in its retooling, and just enough new to keep you on your toes. In my restless dreams, I still see… well, usually me forgetting some nonexistent task at work, but the mystery and metaphorical monsters of that town remain ever-haunting.

I studied Japanese for a year in college, after which I had to stop when my GPA couldn’t withstand fumbling through a new language. In so doing, I reached a point where I could look at some words and, thanks to the symbolic nature of certain kanji, understand what they meant even if I couldn’t understand what they said. In a way, I feel the same about INDIKA: I think I know what this game is about, but I’ll be damned if I can explain what happens in it. The story of an Orthodox nun booted from her convent to journey across a wartime snowscape, INDIKA whorls walking sim, retro platformer, and horror-puzzler into an experience that’s brief, bizarre, and mature in the truest sense. Grotesque impossibilities, like a factory line of whale-sized fish or our heroine praying to literally fix the world while Satan bullies her, pass by with nonchalance between sober dialogues about faith and human frailty. With an openly irrelevant “points” system and Adult Swim-style asides like a little dancing guy emerging from someone’s mouth, INDIKA’s tone is as inconsistent as its gameplay… but for the few hours it took to complete, I was a believer in its sermons.

If there’s two genres I don’t care for, it’s deck-builders and roguelikes: I don’t like installing software only to pretend to move paper around, and I don’t like banging my head against a wall of randomized assets instead of traveling through a bespoke, immersive world. Consider me shocked, then—even after a whole casino’s worth of outlets heaped awards upon it—that this next entry captivated me so much, so fast, with just days left in the year. “Poker meets solitaire” may be the superficial pitch, but Balatro pulls so many tricks that a physical deck just couldn’t: in addition to your standard 52, there’s the multiplying effects of Tarot cards, Planet cards, Spectral cards, Vouchers, snazzy variants like foil and gold cards, and a whole DC Multiverse worth of Jokers, all in service of one goal: lay down the best hand possible, cash out, and then ante up. Add in a catchy main theme, nostalgic CRT-style visuals, and sound design that eggs you on like a slot machine for just one more run, and you’ve got a game that draws a line from millennia-old gambling to contemporary mobile titles, all without a single microtransaction. It may be more about serotonin than storytelling, but when the chips are down, I’m just straight flush with praise for this one.

The Metroidvania: Obtuse name notwithstanding, it’s among the most prolific of indie subgenres, where smaller studios can do a lot with a little by focusing on labyrinthine side-scrolling in lieu of photorealism. It takes pizzazz to stand out in the scene, then, but solo dev Billy Basso made a name for himself and YouTube goof Dunkey’s new publisher Bigmode this year with Animal Well. With vintage art design enlivened by dazzling lighting effects, and both literal and figurative hidden depths, Animal Well foregoes spectacle in favor of mystery and quiet revelation. Every room is either a captivating fork in the road or a chamber to be cleared by your growing arsenal of endearing tools, from a frisbee to a bouncy ball. As nods to classics like Startropics and Super Mario Bros. 2 acknowledge, Basso knows that color and wonder made the 2D era great, but unlike in the ‘90s, uniting with other players to crack every secret is far more feasible! Can’t say I’m keen to hop on a Discord to literally piece together certain Easter eggs, but the added appeal to community is just one more reason why Animal Well is, well, great.

Granted, The Legend of Link doesn’t have the same ring to it, but isn’t it weird how few games set in Hyrule let you play as the character whose name is on the cover? That was until 2024, when Nintendo—fresh off of taking six years to release a Breath of the Wild expansion pack—put out The Legend of Zelda: Echoes of Wisdom! Combining the toylike style of 2019’s Link’s Awakening remake with the anything-goes summoning powers of that last installment, Echoes of Wisdom places players in the shoes of the Princess herself, who must set out with a tiny sidekick to quell the supernatural blight which has ensnared the Hero of Time and much of her land along with him. Per usual, most people and places are remixes of somewhere else in The Timeline, but combining the layout of classic Zelda with modern open-world features like fast travel and mission markers makes this iteration of the kingdom a joy to venture through. The summons menu can be a hassle to navigate, but the sheer number of ways to tackle each puzzle is a marvel of design, and means every player will have a unique journey (me, I often relied on either a staircase of beds or projectile armadillo). I’ve got great expectations for Nintendo’s next full-3D Zelda, but in the meantime, offering this cozy, creative throwback entry was a wise decision.

The Plucky Squire is just plain cute. Many have dabbled in mashing up genres and graphical styles before, but developer All Possible Futures lived up to their name in this debut, where the stars of a children’s book leap off the page after they discover their fictional nature—and the evil wizard who seeks to exploit it. In some levels, you’ll be watching top-down, swapping physical words and flipping pages to proceed like a combination of Baba is You and the home video scene from Spaceballs. In others, our hero will emerge into full 3D, hopping over stray pencils and books to trounce the foes who’ve invaded the bedroom of his biggest fan. In-between it all are hilarious minigames like a Punch-Out-esque boxing match with a badger, a rhythmic duel with a metalhead troll, and a shoot-em-up segment played out around the circumference of a plastic mug. The art design is a cheery delight, the humor is self-aware without ever growing tiresome, and the game never stops adding new, clever ways to interact with your surroundings. With Devolver Digital to rep for them, here’s hoping APF are plucked from obscurity and can produce many more wholesome adventures to come!

Yes, it’s a new game—if AAA slop like Concord can hit shelves as a standalone title only to expire faster than a prepackaged salad, then dozens of hours of engrossing new world design, lore, and battles aren’t disqualified just because they’re behind a “you must git this gud to pass” gate in their predecessor. With that out of the way, Shadow of the Erdtree is FromSoftware’s greatest follow-up content ever, literally filling huge gaps in Elden Ring by transporting Tarnished to a realm hitherto obscured, where the seeds of conflict that’d doom the Lands Between were sewn. A new leveling system centered on scattered collectibles caused some diehards to fuss, but I never minded, because as with my Top Game of 2022 on which it expands, Shadow of the Erdtree isn’t just about dying twenty times to some mournful, mutated madman—it’s about exploration, improvisation, and jolly cooperation. A coastline glittering with neon-blue flowers, an abyss clotted with giant coffins shaped like ships, the Blair Witch-grade horror of stumbling upon an abandoned mansion in the woods… every area competes with every other area as one of the most memorable in not just this game but in any game. Even if I gave up on beating Promised Consort Radahn (though we’ll see about that nerfed version), I adored the dozens more hours I sunk into setting out, sword in hand, to see what treasure or terror awaited over the crest of that hill or at the bottom of that chasm. Now more than ever, Elden Ring is just one of the greatest pieces of fantasy media ever.

In the centuries since it was penned, Chinese novel Journey to the West has inspired innumerable epics, from Dragon Ball Z to at least one Andy Serkis side gig—even if Westerners themselves may not know it by name. Latest among these adaptions was Black Myth: Wukong, the long-brewing sophomore effort of developer Game Science, which transforms the tale into a gorgeous, high-energy Soulslike. As one does, you’ll be planning a path through gauntlets of foes and tweaking loadouts at the last rest stop after getting bodied by another relentless boss, but far from the measured, stoic brawls which define peers like Elden Ring, Wukong’s simian star yelps, swerves, and unleashes magical beatdowns with the stylish, rapid-fire brutality of Kratos or Dante. The outlandish bosses are massive in size and quantity, yet with so many alternate routes and equipment caches in even the most linear of levels, rare is a moment of boredom or despair. It’s a nice change of pace, too, from the bevy of medieval England or Feudal Japan-inspired action games for one steeped in another culture’s art and mythos… which you’ll then bash to bits with a flaming staff. As with Shadow of the Erdtree, I must confess I didn’t see credits, but no matter—Game Science has cracked the formula for a great cinematic action-RPG, and when the rumored sequel drops, I’m ready to go ape all over again.

Why are we here? Why are we even doing this? Not life in general, although I think we can all agree this year often raised the question. No, I mean gaming—what’s it all about? Escapism? Exploration? Strategy? The empathy afforded by embodying someone from another country, another species, another planet? Or is it just about… fun? Not the fleeting rush of spending funny money on a new emote or hat, nor the primal release of sending a bullet through a foreign-looking opponent, but the sustained, childlike joy of navigating an environment like the playgrounds of old: shiny, inviting, full of noise and obstacles but in a way that’s invigorating, never truly painful or discouraging. To that end, the PS5 stepped off its high horse of narrative-driven prestige in 2024, and by that metric, Astro Bot could be the most fun I’ve ever had with a game. Team Asobi taps into the console’s power like never before, honoring old-school platformers while also not letting a second pass without something to make the DualShock rumble, jingle, or veer in your hands. There’s always a cool trinket to uncover, always a grin-inducing gimmick to a given level that’ll make you eager to come back again—no trouble at all, given how fast everything loads and how beautiful everything looks. True, it’s also a parade of PlayStation IP that pats the brand on its back harder than a choking victim, but with as much as I’ve enjoyed Super Smash Bros. over the decades, I’d be a hypocrite to deduct points for self-congratulation. In fact, after experiencing so much awe and merriment in a single package, my bar for the next Mario game has been raised rocketship-high. It’s silly, thrilling, charming, challenging, and full of nods to us Millennials who’ve been gaming since the 1900s. When I turn on the TV and sit down on the couch, that’s what I’m here for. What about you?