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Mobile Suit Gundam (1979) Hasn’t Aged a Day
Almost all forms of media and storytelling are the result of the time and culture in which they were created. Whether mainstream or counterculture, they have something to say about the sensibilities and values of their surroundings. As such, when I pursue media from far enough back, say more than a decade before I was born, I prepare myself for a certain level of narrative datedness.
This was how I sat down with the original Mobile Suit Gundam. Even having read its manga retelling, The Origin, a number of years ago for a basic familiarity with the core story, I was braced for the series to show its age.

What exactly did I expect from the OG Gundam? I can broadly lay my old media prejudices out. The longer seasons common to older shows can result in esoteric filler. Plenty a franchise that have become similar merchandising juggernauts started with simple, black and white stories to push the products and developed more depth either as the writers found their feet, or when fans who grew up with them took the reins. Some works, you can tell they’re made in a time when it wasn’t really questioned if the cast is homogenous and the female characters are pushed to the sidelines and left underdeveloped, if they existed at all. If we’re talking sci fi, the retro future phenomenon and scientific advances found post-release can sour a work’s worldbuilding in hindsight. Any number of these things, I thought, could mark Gundam as a child of the 70s.
But while the art, animation, sound design and voice acting have all been weathered and worn by the decades, looking purely at the story I was astonished by how modern this 44-year-old anime managed to feel.

Gundam’s story is paced perfectly, with not one of its 42 episodes feeling rushed or wasted. It builds slowly from relatively contained enemy of the week skirmishes to larger battles that play out over several instalments, but even in its early episodic phase it keeps itself feeling serialised by giving the White Base clear objectives and making each encounter feel like an actual step toward them. From Side 7 to Luna II to Earth’s atmosphere to Federation airspace, the ship is always going somewhere. And then, key to it all, it reaches those objectives before the journey gets old, and sets up some new challenges to be the status quo on the way to the next one. There’s no filler. There’s no awkward distinction between one-off episodes and main story ones. And then it ends exactly when and where it needs to.
There are shows coming out today, in this era of hyper-serialised, eight-hour-movie-cut-into-ten-episode streaming shows that don’t balance their main plots and episode structures this well.
The sci fi worldbuilding remains strong to this day. The ever-pressent Minovsky particles do just enough handwaving away the lack of remote drone units and high-end automated detection systems that I never questioned their absence, while the rotating, cylindrical design of the space colonies has echoed forward to the pages and episodes of The Expanse, which I would put forward as the past decade’s strongest sci fi series.

And where I expected a simpler story while the franchise was getting its start, Gundam served me a mature and nuanced war story. Oh, there are clear heroes and villains – the series namedrops Hitler specifically as a comparison for one of its main bad guys – but the series consistently acknowledges that even when fighting for a fascist cause, the enemy soldiers are still human beings. You don’t just get to switch your brain off and see the exploding Zakus as machines. Interior cockpit shots of stunned or terrified soldiers in their last moments are regular enough that you never forget the cost of the war.
Where I have seen works from different eras lean on the machismo and old-fashioned ideas about what emotions are appropriate for a man to show, Gundam takes a comparatively sensitive approach to its main character and his response to being thrust into war. Amuro chafes, understandably, at the strictness of a military he never signed up for. The stress and fatigue weigh on him. He confesses how he can’t help thinking about the enemy pilots he’s shooting down. Talk of being unable to sleep because he keeps seeing his battles when he closes his eyes make a level of PTSD obvious even without spelling it out explicitly.
In this, the day of YouTube video essays picking apart the most accurate and realistic panic attack scenes in movies, Amuro’s struggles in the first half of the series feel like exactly the kind of characterisation these content creators are aching to engage with.
And where there’s male sensitivity, there’s also female empowerment. While the men do certainly outnumber the women, there’s nothing strange or novel in-universe about the lady soldiers in the White Base crew and wider Federation Corps. Sayla is promoted from communications officer to fighter pilot, moved without compunction to the front lines and made the primary combat partner to the protagonist, and it’s the most natural development in the world for her character and the show, done without any huge emphasis.
This is another thing people would be making video essays about, if it were coming out new today.

Which brings me to my actual point. Mobile Suit Gundam could come out today. Oh, the visuals and sound would need to be rebuilt from the ground up, but for the story, there’s almost nothing in the script you’d need to change to make it something palatable to a modern audience. (Maybe just tone down Sleggar a tad, or at least make the rest of the crew less receptive to his bullshit.) And I well and truly believe that an episode for episode Gundam remake would find a fandom that would sing the praises of its takes on war, its portrayal of mental health, and the strength and diversity of its characters. I’ve seen the kind of things that get contemporary fandom engagement going, and this ancient show is full of them all.
I’m not one bit surprised, having now seen the starting point, that Gundam became the cultural phenomenon it is today. I can’t imagine being an anime fan in the 70’s, only ever having watched all the other, lesser 70s anime that did not achieve enough longterm relevance to be part of this conversation, and tuning into a story as layered and precisely told and confident in itself as Mobile Suit Gundam. It must have felt like nothing else ever made. Hell, it still feels like it’s in a league of its own. I wouldn’t throw the word ‘timeless’ around lightly, but this is a tale that has truly gone untouched by time.
I hope I haven’t exposed too much of an ignorance about older, more foundational anime in saying that, or anything else in this essay.
Anyway, that’s my pitch for Gundam. There are plenty of other essays out there that will gush on (rightfully) about the iconic robot designs and the screen presence of Char Aznable, but for my part, I say look past the rust on the production values, cast your gaze deeper and find that the story at the heart of it all runs just as smoothly and feels just as new now as it did in 1979.
(And to Sunrise, I say, how about a fully animated version of The Origin instead of just the flashbacks? Money in the bank, guys. Give me a better way to push this thing to my friends without having to downplay the animation quality. Fiftieth anniversary maybe?)
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The Legend of Zelda: Tears of the Kingdom review
This review is spoiler-light, alluding to mid and lategame story elements without going into detail. Gameplay elements discussed should all have featured in promos and trailers. I share some details about a specific gameplay sequence from the first dungeon.

In 2017, Nintendo published The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild, representing a landmark take on the open-world genre and a radical shift in direction for the larger Zelda series. I’m not much of an open-world, make-your-own-fun kind of gamer – I tend to prefer a more curated experience – but I was still enchanted by BotW’s adventure and spent the weeks following its release playing it to death. More than the marketing buzzword it can often be, BotW’s open world justified itself with a truly freeing climbing mechanic and a series of interlinked, systemic material interactions that applied universally. It wasn’t just a big map for a game, it felt like a world unto itself with consistent physical laws. Wood burns and floats. Metal conducts electricity but can be manipulated with magnetic powers. Hot things raise Link’s body temperature and cook foods, cold areas chill the body and freeze foods. Hot air rises. Rising air lifts light objects. None of these things were ever one-off scripted puzzles or set pieces, they were simply The Rules, just like we know flammability and conductivity apply in real life. And BotW gives the player a whole kingdom to use as its physics testing ground, daring them to find something that doesn’t follow the rules, asking them to experience its systems from every angle as they forage, fight and survive.
A linear game, even with the exact same systems, would leave the player second-guessing if it was scripted, if it was all made for them instead of being its own space existing on its own terms. It would have players looking for intended solutions rather than going at a puzzle from whichever direction they spotted it, with whatever bits they have on hand.
While I’m sure BotW was a long way from being the first to try most if not all of these things, and probably wasn’t even the first to combine most if not all of them, it felt to me like a truly new experience.
And I wasn’t alone in feeling that! Overwhelmingly positive review scores across the board cemented BotW’s status as the next big thing of open-world games.
So how do you top that?
Worse, how do you top that a year after Elden Ring presented another critical darling super-influential new take on open worlds?
And hell, how do you do it using the same map and core systems as BotW, with six years of anticipation to live up to and concerns of being “glorified DLC” to beat?

You may think it’s unfair of me to get nearly 400 words into a Tears of the Kingdom review without even mentioning the actual game. I get it, but this is a game too strongly tethered to its context to not talk about it. Its use of the same overworld and systems can’t help inviting comparison between TotK and its predecessor. And emphasising the extent to which BotW was lightning in a bottle in its time only makes the ways in which TotK managed to improve on it (to the point of BotW honestly feeling like a worse game in retrospect) all the more impressive. This doesn’t just feel like Breath of the Wild again, it feels like the newness of BotW’s launch all over again. And that is truly a feat.
Tears of the Kingdom expands on its inherited overworld with two new layers to the map, a suite of new abilities and a greater focus on story.
I was sceptical of the new core powers, Ultrahand, Fuse, Ascend and Recall, from the early reveal trailer, but within the opening hours I found myself using them far more often and readily than BotW’s comparatively contextual Magnesis, Cryonis and Stasis. Rather than needing specific materials like Magnesis and Cryonis, Ultrahand and Fuse are useful universally, on basically everything not nailed down. Recall ditches Stasis’s painful cooldown and momentum-building requirements. And Ascend just makes me wonder how I ever put up with climbing to high places the old-fashioned way.
You don’t even think about how little you used anything other than Bombs in BotW until you feel how seamlessly TotK’s powers slot into its world.
And the benefits are two-pronged, because the Fuse ability almost completely mends the issues with BotW’s weapon durability system, which was a point of contention even in the game’s immediate post-launch honeymoon period. By shifting the power behind a weapon from the weapon itself to the stockpileable materials dropped by enemies, TotK ensured I almost never broke a weapon without having the means to make something comparable or better immediately on hand. It was only toward the end of my playthrough that I found myself hesitating to spend weapons made from rare miniboss and boss-dropped materials on minor enemies that wouldn’t replace them.
Being able to use anything to build a weapon or as part of a contraption made the world feel so much more alive and interactable than it had ever ben before, and had me looking at it in whole new ways. Where BotW reached a point where gathering materials began to feel pointless, TotK makes sure there’s something you can do with everything you find.

TotK’s also splits the difference between BotW’s hands-off approach to story and a more traditional Zelda adventure. The final boss is still in the same place the whole game, challengable at the player’s leisure, but while you can probably guess where he is, the game withholds confirmation until you’ve seen the plot play out. The main beats of the four regional phenomena can still be done in any order, but TotK is much more firm in its suggested order, and unlike BotW, has a pleasantly surprising second act to go through between the phenomena and the finale. The midgame twist probably won’t shock anyone who’s been paying the least bit of attention, and is spelled out especially hard if you pursue the geoglyphs sidequest, but still brings a welcome bit of drama.
The game’s dungeons and bosses – though I will outline some issues with them further below – represent a definite improvement in visual appeal and spectacle from the previous game. While the size of BotW’s Divine Beasts was impressive the first time, the uniformity of them and the ultimate enemies inside them wore thin by the last one. From an enormous flying ark to an underground temple veiled by lavafalls, there’s a lot more worth remembering from TotK’s temples. The Wind Temple (which will be the only one I’ll spoil, given that it’s the first one) has the player first do an extended platforming sequence across floating ruins and the masts of a fleet of flying longboats to gradually ascend around the outside of a raging blizzard before leaping over the top of the stormfront and through the tempest’s eye onto the ark that forms the main temple. It’s thrilling and inventive and aesthetically stunning.
The game’s ending is particularly satisfying. While some will lament that the final gauntlet can’t be approached in same variety of ways as BotW’s Hyrule Castle, I thoroughly enjoyed being tested by the gauntlet of high-level enemies. I won’t spoil the tricks and forms old mate Gannondorf employs, but there’s more than a few fun surprises in there. And the game’s ending calls back to its prologue in a way that makes a for the feeling of a completed character arc for its mute protagonist.
All up, TotK is a wonderful experience that takes everything its predecessor gets right, adds a bunch of seamless improvements and new highlights and sets another new benchmark for the sterling Zelda name.

But it’s not perfect. No game is. And frankly you don’t spend 115 hours doing something in a single month without finding something to complain about.
As thrilled as I am with the dungeons’ visual upgrade from BotW, there is a disappointing lack of traditional Zelda complexity in their navigation and puzzle-solving. Even if you choose not to cheese the more open ones with Ascend or a flying contraption, there’s rarely a barrier that stops you cold. It’s probably the thing I’ve missed most from old Zelda in these new open-world entries.
The dungeons’ difficulty scaling is also a little odd too. You’re pushed toward the Fire Temple as a second stop, and it’s actually one of the more challenging ones, forcing you to open the map and trace mine cart rails between rooms and plan your way to your destination, but the intended third stage, the Water Temple, feels painfully simplistic by comparison.
More broadly, there’s a lot of clunkiness in the game, most of it left over from BotW. It’s in menus, in activating the sages’ powers, in the sheer time it takes to do things like upgrading clothes and batteries and item slots. Just finishing a shrine alone you have the animation of Link activating the terminal (unskippable), the animation of the Rauru altar thing opening up (skippable), the item get window for the blessing fading in (unskippable) and a final outro from Rauru (skippable). It’s ridiculous. Just make the whole thing skippable!
The game’s economy is also pretty rough for all but the most hardcore of completionists. Being too short on rupees to afford a full armour set and having to weigh up what bits you can mix and match with clothes you already own and food you know how to cook to get resistances to the level you want is a fun problem to consider in the earlygame, but it’s an issue when you never naturally get rich enough to go back and full equip yourself, let alone pay the exorbitant cost of the Great Fairies’ upgrades. I rarely saw a sidequest award more than 100 rupees, and things that aren’t gems sell for a pittance (presumably to encourage you to keep them on hand for fusions). In normal gameplay you’re going to maybe be able to afford one set upgraded to withstand endgame enemies and a lot of situational outfits to change in and out of. It discourages experimenting with armour and outfits the same way you get to with weapons and contraptions.

I also found that while using Fuse with your weapons was well-thought through and always fun, defensive fusions on shields were far less useful. The best things to put on them – Bombflowers, Puffshrooms and Muddlebuds – are all single use with no easy way to reapply mid-battle, and can be more conveniently and safely deployed on the end of an arrow.
And while this might just be my own playstyle, I don’t feel like I was ever strongly incentivised to push the limits of Ultrahand crafting. Often, building a cart or flying contraptions takes substantially longer than just riding a horse, Ascending, or even walking or climbing normally to your destination. And with the knowledge that anything you build will be despawned after you enter a shrine or even pass beyond a certain range exploring a cave or town, it just doesn’t feel worth the time it takes fighting the controls to make something flashy. But its hard to deny the strength of the underlying systems when looking at the kinds of crazy things people online are able to make with it.
But all these little annoyances don’t add up enough to overtake the joy of exploration and discovery. For a month, nearly all my other hobbies dissolved in the face of Tears of the Kingdom, and that on its own speaks to the game’s incredible strengths. There’s room to grow further, with streamlining and quality of life upgrades and new approaches to the bits that don’t fully fit in yet, should Nintendo attempt a third run at an open-world Zelda, but for now I’m happy to just enjoy this new peak the series has climbed to.
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Metroid Dread review
I would very much like to be copying a great big Tears of the Kingdom review from its Word doc into this space right now, but even having finished the game a week ago, I think that one needs time to cook.
Instead, I want to take a look back at one of the last highly anticipated new entries for a flagship Nintendo series, dropped after a seemingly infinite wait, 2021’s Metroid Dread. I tapped out my thoughts on the game as I finished it but never found a place to publish them at the time, so here’s a belated review of the long-awaited revival of the 37-year-old classic sci fi franchise.
Spoilers follow.

Metroid Dread is a great and worthy addition to the Metroid canon and I enjoyed my 13-hour first 100% playthrough thoroughly, but it also stumbles a few more times than I’d want for a sequel 20 years in the making.
Now, when I say “sequel 20 years in the making” I know that they didn’t literally spend the last 20 years (since its chronological predecessor and last 2d series entry, Metroid Fusion) making this game. But it is how long I had to wait for it, and expectations were at a record high for the next step of such a beloved franchise after such a large hiatus, which makes the places where Dread feels slightly rushed all the more frustrating.
I’m going to go through this in three parts. First, I’m going to talk about things I liked in Dread. Second, I’m going to go through my complaints and criticisms. Finally, I’m going to talk a little more about the good so this post isn’t a total downer. The middle section will probably be the longest, but that’s because there’s only so many ways to say “they got it right,” but a lot of ways for things to go wrong as well as fun to be had in suggesting possible fixes. Just keep in mind as we spend a lot of time in the muck that my overall impression is extremely positive.
The good
So what did Dread get right? Top of my list, the movement. Holy shit Samus feels good to control in this one. In my mind, Dread has replaced Zero Mission as the gold standard of what a Metroid game should feel like to control. The slide is a move that should never go away, ditto with vaulting over the terrain and pulling yourself directly into morph ball passages one block off the ground. This is helped by the leading lady being wonderfully animated no matter what she’s doing. Running and jumping from place to place feels good and smooth, and even the early speedruns of the first weekend look incredibly stylish.
Dread feels like it was made with a lot of them criticisms of Fusion and Samus Returns in mind and improves on both in its own ways. The clunkiness of Samus Returns’ movement is nowhere to be found. The melee counter is a lot less necessary for handling normal enemies and is much less likely to kill your momentum when you do use it. Compared to Fusion, the balance between story and world design is leagues better. You still have an ongoing plot developed by briefings after getting key items, but your movements are far less restricted and the game is able to adapt to sequence breaks pulled off by experienced players.

It also surpasses Fusion by a mile in terms of the endgame item hunt. In Fusion, there were way too many upgrades locked behind Screw Attack walls so you have to spend a ridiculous amount of time scouring the map at the very end of the game if you want 100%. There were a few items locked behind Dread’s final upgrade, but I did a reasonable amount of exploring as I went and had around 80% completion in most areas with a couple as low as 60ish% when I reached final boss. My victory lap for the final items was short and sweet. And a decent amount of what was left, I could have actually gotten on a previous visit if I’d had more knowledge or practiced my Shinesparks more.
While I’ll have some more to say about environment design in the next section, Buneria and Ghavoran are both absolutely gorgeous and dripping with atmosphere. Both a joy to explore.
The Flash Shift feels great to use. Definitely needs to be a returning item. The Spin Boost as an early Space Jump is also a cool addition. Putting both it and the actual Space Jump before the Gravity Suit with the caveat that you can move horizontally but you can’t gain height underwater is a clever, organic-feeling way to limit the player then let them feel empowered when they do actually get the Gravity Suit.
And on the topic of changes to items, how about being able to slide, morph and wall jump while carrying a Speed Booster charge. The Shinespark challenges in this one were a blast once I got all its new properties and controls worked out. It was cool being able to Shinespark straight down as well, even if it’s only used once. I also would have loved to see more of using a Ballspark to climb diagonal shafts. I think it’s only used intentionally for one missile tank, but speedrunners are getting some extra mileage out of it.
And still on the Speed Booster, I love how much utility the Shinespark has as an actual weapon now. A bunch of bosses can be dealt significant damage or killed outright if you can smuggle a charge into their arena.
And finally, I love that an early bomb sequence break is acknowledged with a hidden quick kill method for Kraid. Nothing like going out of your way to break shit and be met with a cheeky wink from the devs. They knew exactly how this game was going to be played and (for the most part) really embraced it.
Those are my big positives, and now the areas Dread either fell a little short or didn’t quite achieve what it seemed to be aiming for.
The bad
Some people will have been waiting for the EMMI to show up in the good, but my feelings on them are mixed. A few of the chases were genuinely thrilling and the need to stand your ground to take them out at the end of each area was both tense and empowering, and I want to like the creepy bastards, but their implementation doesn’t quite achieve what the developers wanted them to be. I think the reason for this stems from a Mercury Steam design philosophy that also affects the game’s bosses, and was very much on show in Samus Returns as well.

Mercury Steam likes to ramp up what it demands of the player in terms of precision and reaction times, but at the same time to lower the stakes. This game can be tough. The EMMI rooms require quick, decisive navigation lest you die in one hit. The bosses ask for pixel perfect dodges and high accuracy or they’ll drain three energy tanks with a single blow. It’s brutal. But it’s also not, because there are invisible checkpoints outside every EMMI zone and boss room. So the stakes surrounding that difficulty are nonexistent. You can afford to run in and literally feed yourself to an EMMI or a boss while you work out a route or a battle plan because you’ll lose nothing for doing so.
It’s comparable to the likes of Celeste or Super Meat Boy (two games I love) in that it justifies its difficulty by making retrying as painless as possible.
My problem is, that just doesn’t feel like Metroid to me. And it doesn’t feel like “dread” either. If the assumption is that you’ll die repeatedly just to work an enemy out, you’re not going to fear it. You can’t make your players scared of losing but also ask them to work a section out through trial and error. Either they stop being scared or they stop trying. Something has to give.
Contrast previous pre-Mercury Steam Metroid games and you’ll find that the difficulty is more middling but the stakes are sky high. There are no invisible checkpoints in those games. If you die, it’s back to your last save, no exceptions. Any exploration and map-filling you did since saving will be lost. Upgrades you found? Also lost. Hope you remember where you got them. And that could make running into a boss room genuinely intimidating. You stand to lose actual progress if you can’t work out the pattern quick enough. The idea of taking a mulligan attempt without at least backtracking to a save room is unthinkable.
Of course, these games weren’t sadistic about it. There was usually a save room within comfortable walking distance. But having to make back even walking distance gives you something to lose. It makes me think of a thing I once saw said about Hollow Knight, either in some video essay or in a developer interview. For the life of me I can’t find the exact quote, but was said that the trek from the last save point to the boss is designed as essentially the first phase of the fight, which is why some of those paths were so challenging. That perspective helped me appreciate parts of Hollow Knight more, but the developers of Dread obviously didn’t think the same way.
This isn’t to say one philosophy is better than the other or that there’s any one objectively correct way to balance difficulty and stakes, but if it was Dread’s goal to make me fear its enemies, it failed.

If I were to give notes, I would say to cut the checkpoints. For the bosses, most would just need the damage scaled down so that the player has a fighting chance to learn their patterns before being completely destroyed. The EMMI are more complicated. Something closer to Fusion’s SA-X chases, where it tries to gun you down, dealing high damage as it pursues you but doesn’t just kill you outright, might be a fairer balance for them. Being able to stall them with ice missiles as with SA-X might be good as well. That’s probably not a perfect solution – I’m no game designer – but I think it’s clear the EMMI need a little tweaking to get their fear factor pinned down in a way that wouldn’t also make them frustrating.
Since we just spoke about bosses anyway, what was the deal with the Chozo Warriors and Chozo Robots? Both of these fights are recycled a ridiculous number of times relative to their actual level of engagement. It feels like the devs ran out of time somewhere in the back half of the game and started copying and pasting. The red Warrior showing up after the sudden cutscene death of the final EMMI is particularly egregious. Wouldn’t that have been a great place to say that your new Wave Beam can pass through “the strongest stuff in the universe” that they’re apparently made of and have the player finally stand their ground against an EMMI unassisted? Wouldn’t that have been empowering after all the time spent running? But no, have a fourth freaking Chozo.
Raven Beak’s X form is also an incredible anti-climax, on the level of Dark Beast Ganon from Breath of the Wild. It’s a fight that may as well have just been a cutscene. Once again, did you guys run out of time for more unique fights? I know a lot of content had been made for this game already, but it really does leave a flat final impression on an otherwise great experience.
Moving on, Dread repeats a problem that Fusion had in that Power Bombs don’t have much use aside from getting more Power Bomb ammo. They’re too slow to use in battle (aside from being a hard counter to one of the final boss’s attacks, which is nice) and the Scan Pulse has been filling their role in exploration for hours by the time you get them. I do appreciate how many Power Bomb tanks can be reached without getting the bombs though, even if they don’t allow you to use them.

Worse are what happens with your missiles. You don’t have to be particularly good at mashing for beam spam to overtake them in terms of damage against any enemy vulnerable to it, such as as the Chozo Warriors or even the final boss. Beam spam also has the advantage of being an unlimited resource and requiring less accuracy due to the wide beam. The result of this is that you never really use the resources you spend the whole game looking for. I think the last time I came anywhere close to running out was against Kraid.
To Dread’s credit, you’re at least allowed to use missiles against Ravel Beak if you need to justify your arsenal. Fusion was almost insulting in making the final bosses specifically beam only.
Aside from Buneria and Ghavoran, very few of Dread’s areas left a strong visual impression on me. There are a lot of labs and sciency zones spread across Ateria, Dairon and Ferenia that just kinda blend together, not to mention EMMI zones taking up so much of each map while all having the same design elements. Even just letting the EMMI zones match the local flavours instead of repeating all that featureless chrome could have gone a long way on this front.
The map is also laid out really weird. There is absolutely no way for the vertical lifts and horizontal tramways to all actually line up, no matter what you do. One thing I enjoyed in Super and Fusion was later in the game discovering places to move between major areas on foot, no elevators required. I kinda figured that wasn’t going to happen in Dread the first time I saw the load times between areas, but it’s unfortunate for the areas to not at least line up. Makes things feel a lot less comprehensive and connected.
And finally, some nitpicks.
Most of the game’s map funneling feels fairly organic, but the barrior that appears out of nowhere to stop you from backtracking into Ateria early on is cheap and frustrating.
I wish the Phantom Cloak had more uses outside of the EMMI zones. And even in them it’s kind of a last resort for the most part.
The soundtrack is never bad, but it’s extremely forgettable. I spent close to a week hyperfixated on this game and couldn’t hum a single track that didn’t come from a previous game.
It was great seeing the game work so hard to wrap up the plots of the Chozo, Metroids and X all in one go, but no finale for the Space Pirates? And not even touching on the altered relationship between Samus and the Federation after the end of Fusion? That’s a shame.
And how come the planet explodes at the end anyway? They don’t even try to justify it, it just kinda happens because I guess any world Samus sets foot on develops reasonable odds of spontaneous combustion.

But that’s enough negatives. Let’s go back to the good stuff to round things out.
More good
Kraid’s back!
The game’s sound design is legitimately fantastic. The mechanical sounds are great for the atmosphere and I love the boops and beeps the EMMIs make.
Power Bombs look cooler than they ever have. It’s like a mini nuke!
The Dread Suit looks stunning in all forms.
The backgrounds are gorgeous too, with so many mechanisms and nonaggressive animals moving around just behind the play area. Seeing Corpius and the Chozo Warriors move through the background was super cool. I’ll have to go back and look again for foreshadowing for other bosses. I heard Kraid roaring as I got closer to his prison as well.
Narratively, it was pretty cool having the EMMI get disabled in the middle, allowing you to go through some of their areas unmolested, only to have them be reactivated later, forcing a chase through spaces you’d previously considered safe.
Having the X change the map and upgrade early area enemies at the midpoint was cool too. Felt like Hollow Knight’s Infected Crossroads.
And finally, the level of detail on the map screen is a godsend. It can be overwhelming at first, but once you have your head around it, it feels like one of the absurdly high-res sprite maps you’d find online for the old games. They didn’t have to go as far as making every single breakable block part of the map, but it’s so good they did. Being able to highlight all blocks of a specific type was a godsend when I ever felt lost, and when I was hunting down those last few items.

Overall, like I said earlier, I had a great time with Dread. It made a few stumbles and missed a few opportunities, but Mercury Steam have got their Metroid formula to a pretty good point and I’d be very interested to see what they could do with one more chance to iterate. And maybe with enough dev time to populate the back half with an appropriate number of bosses. And it’s just good to have Metroid back after so damn long.
Dread sold well by all accounts and was a critical darling, and Nintendo has signaled their interest in continuing the series through this year’s fantastic remake of Metroid Prime. If they continue to remake the Prime Trilogy, drop Prime 4 to the series’ quality standard and give Mercury Steam a shot at Metroid 6, we could truly be going into a golden age for this fantastic franchise that lay dormant for so many years.
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One Piece chapter 1086 review
You know what? This is enough to satisfy me for a month’s hiatus. It’s plenty. No complaints, and I hope Oda’s recovering smoothly from his eye surgery. Beams and everything.
We’re three for three of really likable Jump covers lately, and I really enjoy seeing characters other than Luffy share these things. I hope all these nice bits of art find their way into the volumes in one form or another. And hey, Luffy’s shorts seem to be a different shade here compared to the Onigashima orange ones. I guess this is the post-Wano outfit. The colour spread is a gorgeous bit of work as well with a lot of cool artistic flexing in the rippling reflections and slick water colour on the raincoats. Beautiful stuff.

The flashback wraps up in fairly short order with some expected confirmations and some big surprises. My read on Wapol’s bit with Morgans is that the king brought the scoops to the bird completely fresh. But if it wasn’t Morgans’ snail in the throne room, how did he get the picture of Sabo? And if it is all based on Wapol’s account (with Vivi’s input) how did Sabo end up blamed? Especially considering Morgans declined to work with Cipher Pol on the two big Reverie controversies. Something about Sabo’s accusation doesn’t add up here.
I really feel for Igaram in the montage of people looking for Vivi and Cobra. It’s a terrible situation and I hope the Alabasta squad didn’t make things worse for themselves in their desperation.
It’s interesting how the Elders note how surrounded by Ds Sabo is. I wonder what they’d think of Luffy trying to give him one when they were kids. But the real meat here, aside from the names and roles (we’re up to nine out of twenty Celestial Dragon names revealed now, but how many of the remaining eleven will there be room for in the story?), is this Mother Frame weapon being a Vegapunk weapon. Depending on who holds the keys, this could be the very thing that justifies such a big cutaway in the middle of the Egghead arc. I was never fully sold on the theories it was an Ancient Weapon, and this being the weapon’s first test firing closes a lot of questions about why such a thing wasn’t used sooner. We also a little later learn it isn’t anything as crazy as an orbital weapon or some long range blast from headquarters. The darkness behind the clouds was just ambiguous enough to leave doubts in chapter 1060, but now we know for certain this is a large, physical thing that has to get in place over its target. I’m caught between a traditional flying saucer and a death star for my design expectations. Maybe leaning toward the saucer based on this one panel from that first chapter.

And the frame/flame translation debate is just another part of this setup to keep an eye on.
The last few Seraphim were not a reveal I expected in the flashback but I’ll take it. Weird for the Crocodile one to still have his scar.
And for all my talk of ambiguous wording last week, we learn fairly completely that Nerona Imu was one of the original monarchs, and is probably a man as well, since he’s described as a king in the history books. Neat. Even though it doesn’t add a ton, I enjoy Sabo, Dragon and Ivan speculating about what it all means. We can sound a lot like that on the forums sometimes, can’t we? The Op Op immortality operation is the first place a lot of us went for Imu so it’s satisfying to see in-universe characters reaching the same conclusion. But that doesn’t mean they’re right! The scene ends with Ivan and Dragon convincing themselves that the new weapon is more likely to be an Ancient Weapon than one of Vegapunk’s machines, even though we the readers have already been told that isn’t the case. I think it’s always a nice humanising factor when characters are allowed to jump to wrong conclusions and get mistaken about their own world’s lore like this.

And then holy shit, that ending. Have to appreciate the historical irony of the Revolutionaries’ supply blockades leaving the nobles with nothing but cake. Let them eat it then. Garling makes quite an impression, both visually and in his ideology. And in being the ruler of God Valley. Since when did Celestial Dragons hold land and titles below those of Mariejoa? File that away as having something special about it we don’t know yet (or being a translation issue, as some are suggesting).
The Holy Knights having enough authority over the Celestial Dragons to execute one is shocking. I mean, I first pegged them as mediators for disputes among the world’s most untouchable group, but this is the next level. Even more shocking is the sentence having already been carried out. Of course in One Piece you have to take these kinds of things with a grain of salt, but that last panel paints a pretty bloody picture. No last words, no Kuma rescue after his climb, this character is gone. And the method as well – a scaffold and two men with blades has been shown as the standard so far, but here’s Mjosgard, crucified on a World Government symbol and seemingly done in by a firing squad. And so, the Celestial Dragons purge the sole redeemable figure from their ranks.

Despite how weighty all of this feels, I don’t think we’re at the end of volume 107 yet. Not until we’ve seen the Strawhats again, even if it’s only on the last page. Shame we couldn’t quite get over the finish line on this one before the hiatus though. If I recall correctly, volume 104 and the last break were the same way. What can you do?
And that’s it I think. A month of downtime, but we should have the volume 106 cover reveal and full release both in the coming weeks, so it’s not like there’ll be no One Piece to talk about. I’m going to try and keep a new review or essay coming out on the blog every Monday like usual, all different topics.
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One Piece chapter 1085 review
What a chapter to come back from the break on, this is huge. And we’re not even at the end of volume 107 yet, so what could possibly top this next week?

The Void Century and founding of the World Government continue to be teased in drips and drops, more implication than explicit detail, everything carefully worded. Cobra’s unfinished sentence certainly implies that Imu is one of the WG’s twenty founding monarchs, but I could see it being finished ‘among the first twenty there was a servant’ or ‘an advisor,’ or ‘a concubine,’ or any number of other things that sidestep questions like whether Imu has descendants among the Celestial Dragon families, and if they favour them, or if not why the rundowns of the family lines of the gods given by the likes of Dofamingo wouldn’t snidely question why there are only eighteen family names in the mix when it should only have dropped to nineteen with the Nefeltari’s rejection. We haven’t ruled out the possibility of Imu being someone who connived to gain power rather than one of the original kings who somehow managed to prop themselves up in the ultimate position without arousing the suspicion of the others.
What this does seem to deconfirm is the idea of Imu as some alien or literal demon or other secret otherworldly force that manipulated the founding monarchs. I’ll be very surprised if Imu isn’t one of the native peoples of One Piece’s world, for them to have been among the founders openly enough that the name survived in a history book.

But we do get two confirmations of things that were only at 99.9% certainty previously. First, the D Clan being enemies of the World Government. Yes, this was made obvious by nobles treating them like monsters to scare their kids and spelled out further when the Ds were called natural enemies of the gods, putting them at odds with the Celestial Dragons’ self-styling. But now we have a primary source stating outright that yes, the Ds and the World Government fought as enemies. (This will shortly be muddied by the revelation that there was a D among the Government’s founders, but hey the reasons for that are just one more thing to look forward to finding out.) And we’re also told that the real meaning of the D is not passed down alongside the initial and the current people with it don’t know the truth. Of course, Law’s mission to investigate the D through the Poneglyphs made this more or less guaranteed anyway but now the figure who would know is saying it.
What does fascinate me though, is learning that the Poneglyphs were scattered across the world in a single incident. Previously, my guess would have been they were entrusted to allies of the Ancient Kingdom and hidden away individually as some kind of failsafe, but instead the World Government seemingly had the opportunity to suppress them all at once and failed. The kind of power it would take to shift all 30 stones to precise locations (remembering that some are supposed to give directions to others, so their destinations would have been incredibly specific) at once is a rare thing, even in One Piece’s world. Maybe an ancient user of the Paw Paw Fruit?
Whatever the method, Lily’s motive for letting them go will be an interesting factor in the inevitable Void Century flashback.

I was very surprised to see the Five Elders draw weapons on Cobra (let alone transform). I was strongly in the camp that saw them as pure politicians rather than combatants. But maybe I should have seen the tide turning in the last chapter, with the discussion about guards disappearing. Someone close enough to be in on the Imu secret has to have the power to suppress and dispose of the guards elite enough to be trusted with Pangea Castle.
The Nefeltaris as a D clan is huge. What else can you really say about it? Vivi’s position as a central figure to the final saga is all but confirmed by this.
And then there’s the transformations. Hey, I thought it was the party not in power that was meant to form a shadow cabinet! I don’t think there’s enough information to make strong guesses about the Elders’ powers save for one, who I’ll get to in a moment, although there are some interesting theories going around already. I wouldn’t even say it’s certain that they’re all Zoan types. Karasu has just been showing us how animalistic a Logia can get, let alone the limitless possibilities of Paramythias. But I want to zero in on one guy with a few factors lining up. The arrow that pierces Cobra sure looks like a traditional devil tail. And it comes in from his left side, not directly ahead, so I don’t think it’s Imu’s. When the Elders transform, the silhouette furthest to the left has some pretty distinctive horns. Maybe this is the Human Human Fruit, Model: Devil. And for a bonus, the Elder standing in that position before transforming was Saturn, who is en route to meet the Strawhats in the present, so we might get confirmation on this one sooner rather than later.

That said, the second arrow attack as Sabo and Cobra flee seems to come from a silhouette without horns, either the Elder second from the left or Imu himself. But that might just be a quirk how the scene is framed.
I can see some people bothered by the convenience of a transponder snail recording during such a top secret meeting to get Sabo’s picture, but we saw in the last chapter Imu in their secret room listening to the conversation live through a snail, so it’s probably just that one.
The little Sa D. Bo flashback is a funny one. Never expected Oda to pay homage to that brand of fandom meme so explictly. I’m torn between arguing that it’s just a gag and Sabo doesn’t really have a D, and arguing that in a series that has leaned so heavily on themes of inherited will and found family that it could be as easy as someone with the will saying so to pass it onto a new bloodline. It would definitely help the idea that not all Ds are related. This does raise the question of Sabo’s family name though. Being a noble, he has to have one. Even if he gave it up upon running away like Sanji did with the Vinsmoke name, shouldn’t we have learned it through Stelly? This might be good SBS fodder.
Cobra makes a hell of an exit, dropping lore bombs to the last. I’m surprised we don’t get the near-obligate panel of the D facing death with a smile this time around. Maybe it’s just less of a rule than we were led to believe, or maybe there’s a little more to see before we’re done with this.

While I love Wapol’s return to relevance, I’m actually somewhat surprised to see him landing in this position. If anyone was foreshadowed to creep back into the throne room and witness something terrible it would be Stelly, who stared up at the throne drooling and thinking about how much he wanted to sit on that thing. Are we still coming back to that? Was it just a gag? Or did Oda even intend to use Stelly in this role when he wrote the first part of the Reverie back before Wano, and changed his mind of the past fiveish years?
Nice moments for Issho and the Leo/Sai duo in the Cipher Pol scene. Still not a huge fan of all of CP9 making it to CP0 though. And I have some questions about Issho ‘helping’ the Revolutionaries free slaves during the attack. Surely he wouldn’t get to keep his job after that. At least if it was as blatant as Jabra makes it sound. Has to have been more of a plausibly deniable ‘whoops, didn’t see them going’ kind of thing that Jabra and Aramaki are seeing straight through.

I don’t necessarily have a suspension of disbelief issue with Vivi slipping her bonds to escape alongside Wapol here, it makes sense she’d have been working on something anyway, but like one panel of her palming her old peacock whips to cut the ropes or something would have gone a long way to making things feel comprehensive here. It’s a small enough that that Oda could definitely have found space on the page for it if he wanted to. I think I’m just taking it easy on this scene because of how funny it is for Kinderella to assume Wapol and Vivi are running away together at the end.
With the apparent promise of an Egghead colour spread next week, I think we’ll see the flashback wrapping up fairly soon. We’ve seen all the things I recall being built up as offscreen Reverie events during the Wano intermissions and pre-Egghead chapters, and seems unlikely anything of note would really have happened as Sabo and the Vivi/Wapol duo make the rest of their escapes. And it would be good to see the Strawhats at least one more time before this volume ends – though I’ve got a sinking feeling that might be a cut back to a state of defeat and York proclaiming her victory as an end-of-book cliffhanger, given how long it’s been. But we won’t know until the chapter drops, and weeks like this just show how hard it can be to predict any part of where One Piece is going next.
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White Sand omnibus review
White Sand was the last piece of Brandon Sanderson’s Cosmere I tracked down when I first got up to date and I almost immediately reached the conclusion that it is the universe’s worst story, and that it wasn’t close. It was a slog to get through, and until my reread I could not have told you a thing about its ending or named a single character. The tweaks and updates to the omnibus version take it from ‘worst Cosmere entry by a lot’ to just ‘worst Cosmere entry by a bit,’ which is about as much as I think anyone dared hope for it.

Going back through part one actually had me thinking I’d been too hard on poor White Sand the first time. Whether it was the new prologue, the updated dialogue or my own desire to find something to like in it on the second go around, I was feeling a much stronger sense of the characters and their motivations, and the first artist’s style lends itself best to the desert backdrops and carapace-covered creatures. The spread showing the destruction after the first big battle sequence is actually breathtaking. There’s stuff to like here. The Ars Arcanum being included as a series of between-chapter cut-ins similar to all the sketches and notebook pages in Stormlight is a wonderful addition as well.
But then Kenton’s muted reaction to his people being genocided and the deaths of almost everyone he knows makes it hard to connect to him and feels out of character for the highly emotional being he was in the opening chapters. It’s like the destruction of the Diem had to happen from a plot perspective but overcoming grief and mourning wasn’t factored into the poor guy’s character arc so it just doesn’t happen.
It’s bits like that where you can really feel this being a story Brando made before he was good enough to get published.

It’s in part two where I was reminded fast and hard why I disliked White Sand so much the first time around. The story is more or less fine now that it’s rolling, even if the misunderstandings that kept Khriss from finding out what Kenton could do stretched my suspension of disbelief, but it’s here the art really just turns to garbage. Kenton burning himself out early on meant we didn’t get to see all that much sand mastery in part one. Now that he’s got it back, the artist reveals that he has no idea how to depict it and is not willing to try anything. The sand ribbons have so much visual potential, especially in close quarters combat, but not a single assassin attack scene does anything with them. Kenton just kinda glows and does stuff. It’s hard to follow and looks awful. Issues that had been slowly building from part one become more prominent. Characters’ faces have an infirm quality to them and sometimes make expressions that seem at odds with what they’re saying, and having to focus on them in all the politicking scenes reveals it. Continuity is rough, with characters dramatically changing their staging relative to each other between panels. And this is after the omnibus removed all the modern tech from the backgrounds.
I can deal with some sketchy art. God knows I’m a vocal defender of Oda’s super-busy panels and cluttered pages in One Piece, but this is beyond even me.
I haven’t read anything else this Julius Gopez has worked on. He seems to do mostly superhero stuff and that’s just not my jam, but everything that comes up on a google image search for his name looks better than this.
And what the hell is with this panelling? All these jagged shapes that break up the flow of the page and disrupt the natural path of the eye. I’m not a traditionalist for many things, but simple grid-based panelling is the standard for a reason. Maybe you get a bit of slanting for the action scenes as a treat, like the comic version of a Dutch angle, but even then the whole row better follow the same tilt.

The bottom left page of this preview set from the omnibus’s Indiegogo campaign demonstrates most of Gopez’s worst panelling instincts. If you’re breaking from the grid, you better have a good reason you’re trying it. Locke and Key gets away with Gopez-style broken glass panelling for a single issue because it had a very specific and obvious mood it was trying to achieve that was intended to disrupt and disorient the reader. White Sand does it just to do it.
Part three, with a new artist taking the lead, starts to reign the story back in. I think the art can be a little too simple and short on detail in the backgrounds, with a lot of big open spaces, but at least the characters are distinct and the action intelligible. The final duel between Kenton and Drile finally delivers on the promise of sand mastery as a visual magic system and makes you wish we’d been doing things like this all along. Kenton’s arc reaches a reasonably satisfying conclusion during the battle.

But the story of White Sand doesn’t conclude so much as it just kinda ends. Kenton is left at a decent place, but almost nothing is wrapped up for the supporting cast. Khriss’s political struggles are ongoing and her sand master solution far from certain. Ais is departing on a new journey to sort out her conflicts with her faith. Aarik had compromised on his convictions and retreated into himself. Everyone except Kenton seems to end the book starting up a new arc. It feels like a tragic level of sequel certainty for a story that really hasn’t earned a follow-up.
And I’d consider that another sign of White Sand being adapted from a pre-publication novel. I’ve got first drafts in my trunk that end in a very similar way.
White Sand is frustrating. I want to like it more than I do – the potential visual spectacle of sand mastery and the ideas behind a planet with permanent day and night sides is fascinating (even without seeing the night side at all), but the art issues that plague the first two thirds of the book and that newbie-author clunkiness showing through from the unpublished novel it was adapted from undermine its attempts to be something great at every turn. Even with the massive improvements the omnibus edition brings it can’t help being the weakest link in the Cosmere chain.
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One Piece chapter 1084 review
That is a powerful Jump cover this week, Luffy is looking damn good. And then on the flip side we have a very fanservice-y colour spread. We say ‘fanservice,’ but really these things seem to be authorservice as much as anything else. Oda draws like he’s just discovered that the t shirt and bikini bottom combo holds a different appeal to him than just a regular bikini pic and has decided he’s going to explore every angle of the idea (and the actual canon Egghead outfits back that up). There’s some nice details in here – Carrot riding a Napoleon tube, Bonney trying to eat the giant koi, Perona’s Kumacy shirt, the tab on the end of Ulti’s club suggesting the got an inflatable version just to take to the pool.

But there’s also Yamato. Sigh. Look, I think at this stage Yamato in Oda’s mind is just a man and a woman all at once, as the scene requires. I don’t really want to talk pronouns again, but here we go. There aren’t and will never be official pronouns for Yamato as English-speakers understand the term. Because casual Japanese language mostly uses neutral second and third-person pronouns (equivalents being ‘you,’ ‘they,’ ‘that person,’ just calling them by name, etc) and has most of the gendering happen via first-person pronouns (so masculine and feminine forms of ‘I,’ ‘me,’ ‘myself,’ etc), it isn’t the same social faux pas to refer to someone with the wrong gender in part because it’s much harder to do. And the first-person pronouns are taken as more of a masculine or feminine flair rather than the definitive statement of gender English third-person pronouns are, and will often shift based on the mood and formality of the conversation as well. So the Vivre Card didn’t “confirm” anything except the biological bits we can all see because it wouldn’t occur to a Japanese-speaking author to correct a form of reference that doesn’t really exist in his language. Unfortunately, Yamato’s mode of speech doesn’t confirm one thing or another either, because of the flexibility outlined above. Deciding how to refer to a character like Yamato, or anyone fully androgynous or with a tendency to cross-dress becomes less about translation and more about adaptation because the cultural and social ways gender is expressed and how those expressions are taken just don’t line up 1:1. Oda hasn’t made Yamato a he/him or a she/her or even a they/them, so we have to look at how the character acts and what they say and how others respond to them and decide what the best fit for that is in our own framework. And to me, Yamato in the story (particularly the bath scene) screams someone who wants to be viewed as firmly masculine. Maybe a retranslation with the benefit of hindsight could go back over everything and play Yamato in more of a nonbinary/genderfluid/bigender way that gels better with these noncanon depictions of them as one of the girls, but in the version we have, the in-story Yamato reads male.

With that out of the way, I think we go over a decent bit of familiar ground this week, re-establishing the 20 royal families and the founding of the World Government. I’m getting my hopes up that Oda is trying to remind casual readers of the full context they’ll need for some big impending reveals.
Sabo and Bonney is a fun little teamup for as long as it lasts. It’s fun seeing characters discover mutual connections like Kuma in such a large world. It’s a shame they seem to part ways before the Cobra incident though, so we probably won’t have news of that making it to the group on Egghead. The Lost Chamber is a tantalising tease to namedrop here. I imagine it’s just Imu’s little garden though. The frozen Strawhat is in a massive fault deep underground, far more than a chamber and way too grand and unconcealable to be a lost.
While a lot of people say to new readers to stick with One Piece til Arlong Park for it to get good – and they’re close to the mark – I think the point where One Piece truly becomes One Piece is Alabasta. For that reason it warms my heart to see the Nefeltaris become so instrumental to the series big mysteries and impending endgame. The web of relations between Lily, Imu and the D is going to be speculated in circles until the final reveals. The idea of a letter being passed down makes me think of Joyboy’s apology message at Fishman Island. Are they connected? Is one a reply to the other? And we have to consider that Toki will likely have some major role to play when it all comes to light as well.
Making the Nefeltaris key to it all only redoubles my conviction that if there is to be a final crewmate (and I don’t think there has to be one) it’ll be Vivi. Plot relevance and established presence are key at this stage of the story.

The Charloss beatdown and Kuma rescue are satisfying moments, but there’s not much to say or speculate about them as we’ve seen the fallout to both already. Mjosguard’s promise to take responsibility works out and Sai and Leo’s choice to go pirate insulate their nations from any residual consequences. The phrase ‘attempted murder’ in the chapter title and the newspapers way back when this happened let us know Charloss is okay. A gap in which we didn’t know the exact players and actions has been filled in, but it’s unremarkable in the grand scheme.
And we end on Imu. From context we could already guess they were a top-secret presence, and the guards talking earlier in the chapter confirms what happens to people who get a glimpse of them. I like the detail of them listening in from their secret room as well. Makes sense they’d be monitoring the whole Pangea Castle.
As for their identity… I’m not totally sold on the idea of it being Lily, but it’s not off the table either. The twentieth sword and actual flower lilies in their secret room (though the sword i absent in this chapter and lacked the decay of the others surrounding the throne when seen in chapter 908) could be read either way as echoes of a former life or mementos of a past love, or perhaps even as trophies from a vanquished foe. Was Lily the only of the original royal families willing to speak against the hypocrisy or cruelty or corruption or whatever of the fledgling World Government, taken down before she could share the truth? There’s not much we can fully rule out at this stage but it’s so exciting to be edging closer to real answers every week.
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One Piece chapter 1083 review
Well colour me surprised that we’re not just continuing straight on with the scene that ended the last chapter but going into what seems to be a full-fledged, multi-chapter Reverie flashback. This is not guaranteed of course – most flashbacks end mid-chapter with the black panel gutters fading back to white, but there were also points in Zou where you can see a black-gutter flashback run right to the end of a chapter and the first panel of the next chapter is right back to white gutters and present day. Anything could still happen next week, but it seems like we’ll keep going with this plot thread. This is most likely the seventh chapter of volume 107 though, and the run of cutaways started in the (probable) second chapter. We’re getting dangerously close to spending a whole volume away from the Strawhats and – as I’ve said repeatedly – it feels like we broke from their story mid-sentence. I don’t know if this structure will stand the test of time.

I really enjoyed seeing a more grounded strategic side of the Revolutionaries this week. The steps taken to besiege and starve out the Celestial Dragons make a lot of sense. I can’t imagine it’s easy to grow food in such rocky terrain at such extreme altitudes and that is a perfectly pragmatic thing to take advantage of. I’d be interested to see the mood inside Mariejoa right now, how much the Roswalds and Charloses of the ruling class are leaning on the Elders over reduced rations.
Sabo’s determined acceptance of Cobra’s death as a step toward his idea of the greater good is a surprisingly morally grey choice for his chapter, and one that I think offers a lot of depth to both him and the Revolutionaries as a whole. And it definitely feels like something neither Luffy or Ace would ever have said, which helps him stand out from the shadows of his siblings. I’ve expressed disappointment in the past that writing the Revolutionaries to only be against “bad kings” rather than the monarchist system that enables them kinda defangs their rhetoric and goals, but moments like this – where there is this event that I feel sad about because I knew Cobra and don’t want to see Vivi hurt by his death and we have Sabo taking the unsympathetic stance of ‘I’m okay with that for the sake of my goals’ – that restore that feeling of more complicated politics and help me trust Oda has a plan for it all.

People were getting really worked up over the Holy Knights thing when the spoilers and scans came out for this one. Personally, I’m astonished at how much of a nothingburger they ended up being in the chapter. The silhouettes seem varied enough that I’m guessing Oda has an idea of their designs already. I guess that one in the middle kinda looks like Shanks. More the sword than anything else, I think. Sure, Film Red implied Shanks might be the wayward child of a Celestial Dragon family, and yeah there’s fun theory potential in it being a sibling or something that met with the Elders during the Reverie, but literally none of that is in the chapter. Could still be true, but it’s not here.
The idea of these guys being mobilised as a real threat to the Revolutionaries in the field is an interesting one. From their first mention in chapter 1054 I’d figured this lot was more for mediating disputes between Celestial Dragon families and keeping the peace among the highest authorities in the world, that no one else could possibly keep in line.

I think some people are being a tad premature predicting these guys to be Imu’s boss crew or whatever. A lot of build up with the Marines would need to be thrown aside for these guys to become the main fighting force that represents the World Government against the Strawhats in the endgame, and we’re all getting very presumptuous about the future roles and powers of a group that have literally been mentioned twice in nearly 1100 chapters. Execution is everything, but we don’t even know what Oda’s trying to execute yet! Literally zero information. I’ll wait and see, thanks.

The Revolutionaries get a great showing here. I love Karasu from a power and design perspective. The idea that he’s just got a normal elemental logia but is adept enough at using it that he makes his transformation into theme-fitting crow shapes, which he can even talk out of, is an absolute game-changer. I want to see more logias using their fluid bodies to show of personal animal motifs and other wild forms! This guy is the only one using his logia correctly. I know we like to speculate that logia Awakenings are a permanent shift to the environment, but Karasu is actually out here doing things no one else with his kind of fruit is doing.
Morley is absolutely out of proportion compared to his first appearance here, but the spread is cool enough that I don’t really care. Going back to chapter 1054 to double check that first Holy Knights mention also let me rediscover a panel which makes a fun parallel with the nobles bickering about collateral damage and CP0 musing about the admirals being held back in the latest chapter.

And speaking of, I’m not the biggest fan of all of CP9 making the jump to CP0. It’s not awful, but it might have been more fun to spread them out, some of them ending up in different divisions or even going their own way after Spandam’s betrayal. Kind of like how most of Baroque Works rediscovered their original dreams and left. Oh well.
As final thoughts on the start of this flashback I have to wonder if we’ll learn anything about Bonney and Kuma in this sequence that will tie immediately back into the Egghead plot. It’s certainly a possibility, and I absolutely love Vivi standing up to Lucci here. It does feel like more setup than substance, but that increases my confidence we’ll be exploring this part of the past for at least a couple more chapters. The original Reverie chapters made for one of the most explosive and exciting times to be a One Piece fan back in 2018, feeling like we were getting more plot and lore in one go than we had for years. If we’re really going back for the unabridged version right now the next month or two could be huge. Hopefully next week we’ll get a clear idea of how far down the rabbit hole Oda intends to take us.
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One Piece chapter 1082 review
I’m on around my third chapter’s worth of saying let’s get back to Egghead already, but Oda keeps giving me things I’m not asking for that manage to greatly entertain me regardless. I’m starting to wonder how much of volume 107 we’re going to spend away from the main plot at this point. If volume 106 balloons to 12 chapters we could see this one having a single chapter of Egghead for the York reveal, followed by at least half a volume’s worth of the rest of the world.
How typical of Oda, to tease at Jump festa this idea of “I hope no one dies!” as he starts setting up this huge endgame with big name characters making their moves, and the first one to bite it is… T Bone! I don’t think anyone could have seen that coming. It has a similar energy to Ashura and Izo’s deaths, but feels like far, far less of a copout. Still, T Bone was pretty likable as Marines went, and a long-haul character who’s kept making cameos past his first appearance for longer than I’ve been reading the series. I appreciate Sengoku and Tsuru’s conversation on the topic, with the self-awareness about the purpose of bounties inspiring betrayal by the common folk, especially in impoverished areas. What they miss is the high likelihood of the World Government’s Heavenly Tribute creating so much of the poverty that made this tactic so effective in the first place. But if they could connect those dots they might stop being Marines, right?

What’s with the black line across T Bone’s pic in the paper though? I could see it being just a weirldly drawn fold in the page, and it’s not really how I think Oda would depict an attack happening in a still photograph.
The man we see with Cross Guild in the next scene doesn’t look like a match for a Vice Admiral in regular circumstances (which I know has some thinking T Bone faked his death to give him the reward, but that feels cheap to me) but Sengoku alluded repeatedly to backstabbing before, and it would be just like what we know of T Bone to trust in the good in people and let his guard down. I’m inclined to think he really did it, but the line about the cause of death being withheld early in the chapter gives me pause. Perhaps they just didn’t want it to get out that he’d been assassinated by a civilian and give Cross Guild the advertising. If it did happen, the method would have to have been completely without honour, but when you look at the panel of his starving family, you can see how much of a hard choice that would make for the guy.
It’s very interesting to me that Buggy says the guy who killed T-Bone has made himself into a “champion of evil” (or “charisma of evil” if you want a more awkward translation that I don’t think uses the word ‘charisma’ properly in English but whatever), which you might remember being the same thing Trebol claimed he and the other executives raised Doflamingo to be after they recognised his potential as a boy.
You have to wonder where Buggy picked up the phrase from.

The Buggy gags are fun, but they lead into a pleasantly surprising moment of character growth for the guy as he, out of all the pirates present, becomes the one to remember the importance of ambitious dreams. We see explicitly that despite all the bickering Buggy’s affection for Shanks was genuine, which led into real disappointment when their pirating goals diverged. And I think he actually does prove himself as the leader he’s been made out to be in this way that he manipulates the far stronger former Warlords into following his agenda instead of their own using his sway over the crew. Very piratey move.
I feel as we get further in that Oda is using these cutaways to set up each of the Emperors’ runs at the One Piece. Shanks and Blackbeard get decisive wins over the captains with the Poneglyph rubbings. Buggy gets to renew his determination and get us all thinking about how much second-hand info he might have picked up from being so close to the last guy who claimed the throne. This is Oda putting pieces where they need to be for the final race to the treasure.
The question becomes if the Egghead Incident will give Luffy his own chance to fully declare his candidacy to the world, or if we’re taking the defeat of Kaido to be that moment for him.

The newly named Revolutionaries (only newly named, they’ve been hidden in the background of older chapters) are a set of fun designs. I think Ahiru is my favourite. You have to wonder what kinds of weapons are in that arm. And if maybe Lindbergh built it for her, despite her not being his subordinate. Jiron is seen literally eating a telescope, which makes me wonder if he’s got a Devil Fruit power to be revealed at a later date. Something similar to Wapol’s powers, apparently. Far from the first adjacent ability.
Sabo’s reunion with Koala is a sweet moment, and I’m happy to see poor Moda made it out alive. That Lulusian explosion was big enough I was actually wondering if the bit parts from the island were gone forever, but Oda will do as he does.
It took me a bit of looking to find the “three noise” signal Sabo references here. I was expecting to find it floating through the air like normal sound effects, so the first couple of times I scoured chapters 1058 and 1060 for it I totally missed it being right there in Sabo’s speech bubble, with Dragon reacting to it and everything. The official release’s typesetting also makes it look more like two noises than three, but the original Japanese has the sounds looking more intentionally distinct from each other.

I’ve given up on trying to say with any confidence where the story is headed next week, but I know I’m not holding my breath for Sabo’s full Marijoa explanation right away. It sure could happen, I’d love to see it after having this event sitting in the background for so long, but it would be very like Oda to leave us hanging again. But even if we are cutting back to Egghead, that’s still giving me something I’ve been wanting, so that’s cool too. We’ve been getting the Reverie in drips and drabs since 2018, we can wait another few months to get back to this scene if we have to.
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Choo Choo Charles Review
Choo Choo Charles is an experience I really, genuinely wish I could recommend more than I do. Had it been a free or Pay What You Want Itch.io experience I might be telling everyone I knew to run off and play it and give Two Star Games as many pageviews and word of mouth connections as they can. But for a $30 steam release, Charles doesn’t have enough meat on its bones and has too many issues for me to in good faith say it’s worth the price of admission.

But I want to start positive because there is a lot to genuinely like here.
Charles strikes just the right balance between the absurd and the horrifying as a monster, skittering around on his spider legs as something between Stephen King’s namesake Charlie the Choo Choo and a creepypasta Thomas the Tank Engine. It’s hard not to love him.
Making trains a central theme, having the player fight him from a train of their own that gets upgraded over the course of the game, was a great choice. It feels like a game built around Charles, not just a horror game where any old monster could play the part of the villain. And you don’t see a lot of train games, so points for originality. And it’s cute that the game over screen says ‘derailed’ instead of ‘you died’ or anything else generic. I like those kinds of touches.
I also enjoyed the shoutouts to other horror titles here and there. I’m a big Stephen King fan so obviously I loved the inherent Dark Tower-ness of Charles from the start, but the Slender sidequest was a fun surprise.
The map design is surprisingly strong. It’s an open world, technically, but you’re going to be on rails, so to speak, for most of it. While you can go in reverse, you can’t turn your train around. And because your weapons are rear-mounted and Charles is a pursuing foe, you’re incredibly vulnerable going backwards. While this is limiting, the mission placement on a forward loop of the island takes you from easy missions to harder ones on a pretty reasonable difficulty curve. The island obviously isn’t made to be explored freely. The dense woods and high hills in the spaces between the tracks would probably prove themselves dull and empty if they could be entered whenever you please, but as a danger zone that Charles could burst out of at any time they remain far more engaging. Meanwhile, NPC quests, both optional and required, lead you to basically all the actual landmarks.
Yeah, it’s an “open world” that you can’t freely explore and wouldn’t find much in if you did, but that’s actually a feature, not a bug.

The thing I think Choo Choo Charles does best, being a horror title, is leveraging your sense of vulnerability. While you can deal enough damage to make the eponymous spider train to leave you alone from your own train, you’re completely defenceless on foot. If he decides to launch an attack when you’re more than a couple of seconds from your train or a place of shelter, you’re dead. There’s no getting around it. But everything you need to finish the game is away from the rails, and the further you are in your loop of the island, the more overland travel NPCs will ask of you.
I think this works great. I’ve played horror games that make you vulnerable all the time, and horror-themed games where you just shoot at monsters. Giving you a weapon that works and then telling you to choose to leave it behind to get anything done ratchets the tension up. You’ll be listening to all the ambient noise and random music cues trying to sort out which ones, if any, signal a looming attack. You’ll be weighing how long it’s been since Charles last came and trying to decide if you’re due to see him before starting a big quest, or even just before you step off for ten seconds to switch tracks.
I was never actually killed by Charles while I was away from my train. Maybe he’s programmed not to give you inescapable encounters, or maybe I just got lucky. But I was always worried he was coming, and that’s a horror game doing its job.
Unfortunately, it’s here that my praises for Choo Choo Charles come to an end.
While the island looks very nice and Charles himself is an inspired bit of visual design, there are some bizarre textures that look like the details were drawn on with markers. Most doors and a lot of your train interior have this look. I imagine it’s a holdover from the early version where NPCs were literal cardboard cutouts, but it looks really out of place among the higher res environments. The lack of mouth movement on the NPCs can also be offputting. There’s a final level of visual polish that just feels like it was missed for these things. Lots of reused assets as well, the same crates of dynamite everywhere.

But the real blight on Charles is its stealth sections where you steal supplies and monster eggs from train-worshipping cultists. These are just bad. They don’t work. Something is broken inside these sections. The enemies’ cone of vision doesn’t feel clear and you have no indication of it. The guards on patrol will whistle while they walk around, meant to give you an audio cue to approach cautiously, but their visual range is far further than their audio one. I would scale a hill and get my first glimpse of a camp, but instead of having the chance to scope things out and plan my approach I would be immediately spotted by a goon in the middle of it. Or I’m in a mine or cave and there’s a long hall. I can’t hear whistling, so I assume it’s just the route to next area, but as soon as I break cover a cultist appears at the far end of the passage and yells “No trespassing!” without giving me a chance to double back.
And there’s no recourse when this happens either. You can’t break line of sight and hide in a cupboard or a cardboard box to reset the scenario. Can’t throw rocks to mislead the cultists. You’re barehanded off your train and they have shotguns so you can’t stand and fight. The only thing you can do is lead your pursuer on a merry chase back to your train, waste them with the weapons meant for Charles, and trudge back to the now unguarded stealth area.
These sections were, without exception, miserable experiences. And they make up the half of the gameplay that isn’t chugging along the tracks and fighting Charles.

There could be decent gameplay in here, if you finetuned the mechanics for being spotted and gave the player some more options to finesse their way through like dedicated stealth titles have. Or maybe you give the player a gun of their own that works on cultists but not on Charles. Make it one hit kills and maybe say that the sound of gunshots draws Charles attention to incentivise staying hidden and being efficient. Just add something to these sections to make them feel complete.
And finally there’s the length. I have three hours of playtime on Choo Choo Charles and it was enough for 100% completion. On a $30 game. I spent less on a ticket to Avatar and got entertained for longer. I really hate to say something as harsh as this to an indie title and obvious passion project, but it’s just bad value. Sales and future price drops might help the game fill its niche as a short, novelty impulse purchase, but I couldn’t tell a friend to pay full price for something with such little meat on its bones, that feels so unfinished in places, and feel like I’d given them sound advice.
I really don’t want to be too mean to Two Star Games and Choo Choo Charles. For what I understand to be basically a one-man show, the game is a truly impressive effort with a lot of good ideas that work well when they do actually work. I would love to see what the mind behind this game can do with a little more experience, a slightly larger team, more time to polish and a chance to iterate. There’s a great game at the heart of Choo Choo Charles, but as it stands, only half of that game gets to show. Luckily, I’ve got a soft spot for indie projects and find ambition incredibly endearing. Even if I wouldn’t recommend paying full price for Charles, I’m going to be waiting and watching with great interest for what Two Star has in store next.
