Käyttäjän Mink viimeaikaiset arvostelut

Bought the game 6 days ago and have 60 hours playtime, that means it good

Keep Talking and Nobody Explodes is one of the few games where I genuinely think people play it wrong most of the time. Everyone treats it like some goofy party game where you yell at your friends while somebody panics over wires, but honestly I think the game is infinitely better alone if you actually take it seriously.

I know the whole point is technically communication, but playing solo turns it into something way more interesting. It stops being “haha funny bomb game” and starts feeling like an actual investigation. You have to analyze patterns, manage time, interpret symbols, memorize procedures, and stay calm under pressure. When you’re alone, every success feels entirely earned because there’s nobody else carrying part of the process for you.

Most people just use the PDF manual on another monitor, but I printed the entire thing out because it felt more authentic. At first it was just for convenience, but after a while I started organizing it properly. I put the pages into a binder, added tabs for faster access, highlighted important sections, and marked common patterns in pencil. The symbols section especially needed quick navigation because wasting even ten seconds flipping pages can completely ruin a run.

Eventually the manual started looking less like game instructions and more like actual case files. There were handwritten notes in the margins, folded corners, coffee stains, little arrows pointing to important rules. I remember sitting at my desk at like 1 AM with the binder open, rapidly flipping pages while trying to solve a Morse code module before the timer ran out, and honestly I felt incredibly intelligent during moments like that.

That’s another reason I think solo is better. When other people are involved, everything becomes chaotic and random. Alone, it becomes methodical. You develop systems. You start thinking ahead. After enough time I got extremely fast at identifying modules and mentally prioritizing which ones needed immediate attention. I’d see complicated wires and instantly know what section to open before I consciously processed it.

The game almost rewards obsessive behavior in the best possible way.

There were nights where I’d sit down intending to do one or two bombs and suddenly realize three hours had passed because I became completely locked into the process. The room would go silent except for the timer and the sound of pages flipping. I started treating every module like a puzzle that needed to be professionally examined instead of just “solved.” Even stupid little things like checking serial numbers felt important. You start noticing details everywhere.

I also think people underestimate how satisfying it is to physically use the manual instead of digitally scrolling through it. Slamming the binder open to the correct page at the last second genuinely feels cool. There’s no other way to describe it. Especially once the pages start naturally opening to the sections you use most often. Mine eventually became worn down in certain spots from overuse, which honestly made it feel even better because it looked like something an actual investigator would carry around.

I got weirdly serious about the game too. I remember restarting bombs because I felt like my “procedure” was sloppy even if I technically won. If I wasted time fumbling pages or forgot a rule I already knew, it bothered me way more than it should have. The ideal run felt less like gaming and more like executing a perfect operation.

And honestly, I still think solo is the definitive way to play it.

When people describe funny moments screaming over each other with friends, it always sounds exhausting to me. The game feels so much more immersive when it’s just you sitting there trying to calmly piece everything together under pressure. It becomes less about social interaction and more about competence.

There’s something deeply satisfying about successfully defusing a complicated bomb entirely by yourself using nothing except a binder full of printed instructions and your own ability to stay organized.

One of the best puzzle games ever made.

Plants vs. Zombies: Garden Warfare 2 is probably one of the most strangely comforting games ever made. On the surface it’s just a goofy shooter about plants and zombies fighting each other, but there’s so much personality packed into every corner of it that it becomes impossible not to get attached after a while. Even now, years later, I still think it has one of the best multiplayer atmospheres ever. The maps felt huge when I was younger, the music was weirdly emotional, and every character somehow felt alive despite most of them barely even speaking.

I think what made Garden Warfare 2 special was how welcoming it felt as a kid. Other online games always felt loud and angry and competitive, but Garden Warfare 2 felt warm. Even the menus felt friendly. You’d load into the Backyard Battleground and immediately hear all the little sound effects and music and character noises and it genuinely felt like arriving somewhere real.

The characters carried the whole thing too. Every plant and zombie somehow had their own personality even without dialogue. The Foot Soldiers felt dependable, the Scientists felt chaotic, the Peashooters felt energetic. After enough time playing, they stopped feeling like “classes” and started feeling more like siblings or childhood friends you’d spent years around. I still can’t explain why hearing the All-Star’s voice clips or seeing a Sunflower run past me makes me emotional now, but it does.

I genuinely had the biggest crush on the Sunflower as a kid and honestly I think part of me still does. Which sounds humiliating to admit because it is literally a smiling flower with cartoon eyes, but there was something so weirdly sweet about her. The little healing beam, the happy noises, the way she’d follow teammates around helping them. She felt kind. Safe. I remember always getting excited whenever a Sunflower player stayed near me for a while because it felt like we had some kind of connection.

Sometimes I’d follow them around the entire match protecting them. We’d move together across the map for like twenty minutes and honestly it felt like genuine friendship to me. Looking back, those were probably some of my favourite online gaming memories ever. I had a few people I used to play with all the time too. Whenever I saw their usernames in a lobby I’d stay near them the whole game and help revive them whenever they went down. After enough matches it honestly started feeling like we knew each other personally.

One guy playing Kernel Corn jumped three times at me once near the objective after I revived him and I remember being happy about it for the rest of the night because he recognized me from earlier matches. We ended up together in like four games after that and I stuck with him the entire time helping him fight zombies. I still remember his username now.

I spent so many hours in Garden Warfare 2 as a kid partly because I was becoming part of this huge friendly community. I’d log on after school excited to see familiar names again and run over to them immediately when the match started. There was something comforting about sticking close to someone for an entire game, even if we never spoke. It felt important to me. Like we were teaming up properly.

The game honestly affected my real life too. I became weirdly obsessed with plants because of it. I remember begging my parents to let me start a garden in the backyard because I thought it would feel like the Plants team base from the game. I planted sunflowers first obviously. I was convinced I was going to grow this huge beautiful garden and sit out there every afternoon like some kind of plant commander but almost all of it died within a month.

One of the sunflowers bent over and never stood back up again and I remember feeling devastated about it. I think I even apologized to it once which is probably the saddest sentence I’ve ever written.

But that’s the thing about Garden Warfare 2. It got into my head completely. It stopped feeling like just a game after enough years. The Backyard Battleground felt like a real location I used to visit. The characters felt like people I grew up around. Even now, hearing the music from the loading screen gives me this horrible ache in my chest because it reminds me of sitting alone after school, surrounded by friends as long as I stayed in that game long enough.

Zuma Deluxe is one of the few games that genuinely never left me. I replayed it recently expecting a quick nostalgia trip, but instead I got pulled back into the exact same trance I used to fall into as a kid. The music starts, the marbles begin rolling forward, and suddenly nothing outside the game matters anymore. Hours disappear. Your entire brain narrows down to colours, timing, and panic.

What makes Zuma so special is how simple it is. There’s no giant story, no complicated mechanics, no endless upgrades. It’s just you trying to stop the chain before it reaches the skull. But the pressure the game creates is unbelievable. The further the marbles creep forward, the tighter your chest gets. Every missed shot feels catastrophic. And when you barely survive with a perfect combo at the last second, the relief is almost physical.

But honestly, the older I get, the more I realize the reason I love Zuma isn’t just the gameplay.

It’s the frog.

People laugh when you say you love the Zuma frog. They think you mean it as a joke. But over time he stops feeling like a game character and starts feeling like something older. Familiar. Protective. Like a father who never panics in front of you even when everything is collapsing.

You fail a level in Zuma and the frog does not shame you. He simply turns, patiently waiting for the next attempt. The music resumes. The marbles roll again. Life continues.

That kind of emotional design barely exists anymore.

The frog never speaks, but after enough time with the game, he becomes weirdly comforting. No matter how stressful the level gets, he remains calm in the center of everything, endlessly rotating, endlessly focused, holding the entire world together one marble at a time. After a while it stops feeling like you’re controlling him and starts feeling like the two of you are thinking together.

And when you stop playing for long enough, you genuinely miss him.

Not even in an ironic way. You miss the sounds, the rhythm, the strange peace the game creates. You miss seeing the frog sitting there waiting for you again. There were times I reinstalled Zuma not because I wanted “nostalgia,” but because my brain felt restless without it. Like something important had gone quiet.

That’s what makes Zuma Deluxe so memorable to me. Beneath the simple puzzle gameplay is this strange emotional comfort that’s hard to explain unless you’ve experienced it yourself. It feels less like revisiting an old game and more like revisiting an old protector who stayed exactly the same while the rest of your life changed around you.

And somehow, every time I hear the music and see that frog turn toward the incoming marbles again, I feel completely safe.

A week ago I was diagnosed with a terminal illness and the doctors have given me a year at best. I'm so glad I was able to play this before I go. I don't know how many people will see this; but I recommend to you to play this game if you do see it. Gameplay, atmosphere, graphics. everything is masterfully crafted. If you read it, thank you and good bye.

Needs more tomboys

I entered a house, desperate and hungry, looking for some food. I heard some footsteps outside.

The guy said "hey", and entered the house.

I said "hey" back.

He hit me with a hammer.

This was the beginning of a beautiful tale... the tale... of the Shoe Gang.

I ran out of the house and up the street as far and as fast as I could. I stopped and turned around to see if I was being followed by this crazy hammer man. I stood there, hungry and demoralised.

Then there was a voice... "Behind you, behind you"! Out of nowhere and in all his glory, another player... apparently much friendlier than my previous encounter.

I told him what had happened in town. He charged off... "Let's get this mother ♥♥♥♥♥♥".

Armed only with my ten fingers curled into balls, we ran at the Hammer Man, who after seeing our number had doubled, decided to take a more diplomatic approach.

He apologised for hitting me with his hammer, and explained he simply wanted my shoes for his friend. Little did he know that I had just found the most pristine pair of shoes in the house where we first met.

They were my shoes now.

Agreeing to put our differences aside, the three of us teamed up in search of the finest shoes for the Hammer Man’s friend. We searched high and we searched low, but there were no shoes to be found. Finally, we met up with the shoeless man, whose shoes certainly were in a state of disrepair. Unable to tolerate the toes of the bare footed any longer, the four of us left town and made our way across the countryside.

Sometime later, we encountered another survivor. He had a nice hat, but we weren't there for hats. He was clearly uncomfortable, and he was right to be, as the Hammer Man had been stashing a secret pistol this whole time. We were explaining our need for shoes when the Hammer Man went for the kill.

Unknown to the survivor, the gun went to the back of his head. Hammer Man pulled the trigger. He completely missed the shot. Listening to the Hammer Man’s accent he appeared to be French, which for me, an Englishman, explained his inability to handle a firearm at 3 centimetres.

The Hammer Man pulled out his primary hammer and bashed the survivor over the head. It was terrible to witness, and mentally scarring.

Utterly traumatised, the rest of us piled in with our fists. We were careful not to hit his shoes, but it turned out that he too was wearing worn footwear. However, it was enough, and our friend fitted the loafers over his aching toes.

The four of us marched on. The fields of Livonia seemed to stretch forever, and the rain began to fall. We found an old abandoned house, apparently half-shelled but yet still standing. One of the boys lit a fire in the fireplace.

It was beautiful.

We properly introduced ourselves. Bonds were formed. Shoes were discussed.

It was a moment cut short. My saviour in town announced that his shoes were now unfit for purpose, and so our thirst for shoes was far from satiated.

After much searching, my new friend had to go, leaving myself, the Hammer Man and his friend to fend for ourselves. We moved on... shoes won't wear themselves.

The rain gave way and we pushed on, the scent of leather driving us through the forests. The three remaining members of The Shoe Gang took part in some fishing. We sat round a fire and cooked, and we discussed our shoe filled fantasies.

We moved on and day began to turn into night. Darkness was our environment. Nature began to stir and the sound of wolves filled the air. It didn't take long. We were outnumbered. Our shoes were worn out, and they were upon us in the blink of an eye.

Hammer Man was the first to fall, flailing his gavel relentlessly as the beasts took him. I attacked the alpha wolf with a big stick which only seemed to anger him. Soon everything began to fade, the blood loss was traumatic and I slipped into darkness. Many hours had passed with my new friends, and my last memories were of them dying.

Darkness came. Silence followed. A loud ringing in my ears...

The wolves killed us all. I have no doubt that they took all of our shoes.

Roblox tycoon,. soooo good

"Wanted to feel like a raider? Sorry, bro — that moment is gone. Now you are just meat for f***ing content."


For the first two–three weeks, ARC Raiders was that rare case: a game about raids, atmosphere and survival.
Now most matches feel like an arena for aggressive streamer content (and other content creators), where a normal player is just expendable.

· WHY I LIKED THIS GAME SO MUCH

Visually and atmospherically, ARC Raiders is honestly a piece of art.
Concrete brutalism that feels like a Soviet–era architecture fever dream, mixed with industrial aesthetics in the form of rusted structures; post–apoc–punk clothing with retro–futuristic elements that could be ripped straight out of old sci–fi – it all works together as one coherent style.

The sky and distant vistas are the kind that make you want to just stand there and stare.

Sound and audio design set the overall feeling of a raid and give that rare sense of: “I am actually in another world.” The developers themselves called audio one of their “strategic pillars”, and you can feel it: this is a game you first play with your ears, and only then with your eyes.

The raid atmosphere and the map as a sandbox: tension and unpredictability, a world you genuinely want to explore, where every run can feel unique. All of that existed in the first phase of the game’s life (those early weeks) – the game really did deliver that experience, until it became flooded by mass PvP purely for content.

· WHAT ACTUALLY HAPPENED

I want to freeze in time the moment when it was still possible to play ARC Raiders “normally”. For me, this was that rare case when a game actually gave me a feeling of happiness and deep engagement. ARC Raiders could easily have become one of those games I come back to for years.

But right now it is being buried by one specific thing – an aggressive meta pushed by streamers.

· HOW IT LOOKED BEFORE THE “EVENTS”

Not that long ago, matches looked roughly like this:

– you drop into a raid;
– sometimes you run into other squads;
– some players choose to interact, some choose to avoid you;
– there were tense moments (“is this guy a d***bag or actually a decent dude?”), but you did not have the feeling that every single person you met was a f***ing psycho sprinting at you and screaming for “content” on TTV or TikTok.

You could:

– team up and destroy ARC machines together;
– loot buildings (there really is enough loot for everyone);
– help each other with quests;
– sometimes extract side by side with total strangers – and that felt great.

Now it is a completely different story.

· WHAT CHANGED

After one particular streamer (TheBurntPeanut) decided to start his “war” and hyped his audience into playing as aggressively as possible, this started:

Every encounter = automatic KoS gameplay.
(For clarity: KoS = Kill On Sight.)
No attempt to communicate (I literally carry defibs just to pick random people up), no reading the situation – just instant deletion of anything that moves.
Or they hard–ignore you until you get knocked, then suddenly turn on their mic to brag about being from some “faction”. Bro, we are in solo. What f***ing faction are you talking about?

Camping exits and key locations.
People sit on extracts and quest spots not for loot, but for “clean frags” for recordings or streams. And it is not even impressive – the shooting in this game is extremely simple; this is not CS or PUBG, where gun skill actually matters a lot more.

Matches feel less like raids and more like BF/CoD with extraction sprinkled on top.
Instead of tense PvEvP, you get a pure PvP arena with some running to the exit. On top of that, depending on luck, the surrounding PvE can either screw you over or bail you out: bots aggro whoever they see first and often end up helping your enemy.

Naturally, part of the community picked all this up: people watch how their favorite streamers or YouTubers play and simply copy the style. As a result, a normal player (or a newbie) who came for an extraction adventure, not for a never–ending circus of clips, just stops having fun.

Friendly or neutral players slowly turn toxic too. As we all know, evil breeds evil: if you get ratted out ten times in a row, your hands start itching to play the same way. If it keeps going like that, we might as well rename the game to RAT Raiders.

· WHY THIS IS NOT JUST A PROBLEM FOR “SNOWFLAKES”

I am not against PvP and I am not asking for some “hippie chill–only mode” (I can play aggressively – I just keep hoping the person in front of me will turn out to be reasonable, not an a***le).

But right now:

The game is losing its identity.
Instead of a unique mix of co–op raids and risky PvEvP, we are getting yet another simulator of “shoot everything you see” (well, except ARC, apparently).

The experience is dictated not by design, but by streamers and their fanbases.
Today they feel like “playing like psychos” – and the whole server turns into a toxic festival of aggression, and everyone else is basically forced to live in that format.

New players are thrown straight into the most toxic version of the game and make the only logical conclusion: this is just another toxic KoS trash pit – so they uninstall it, or in the worst case, go straight for a refund.

· WHERE THE DEVS COME INTO THIS

The problem is not just one freak who started a “war for content”. The problem is that:

The game has no tools to balance player behavior or dilute the total KoS clown meta:
no karma, no reputation, no rewards for helping others or for non–aggressive behavior, no real tools for peaceful interaction, no convenient signaling or identification systems, and so on.

There is no clear stance.
Is this a game about raids, survival, adventure and destroying ARC –
or about “shoot everything that moves”?

Right now it feels like the developers themselves have not fully decided what they want from their own creation, and that empty space has been filled by streamers. They are effectively the ones setting the tone.

If you let streamers and content creators define the behavioral meta, be ready for your game to become a hostage to their moods. That is exactly what is happening right now.

· WHAT I WOULD LIKE TO SEE

If the developers really want to keep ARC Raiders as an interesting extraction experience, and not just another PvP arena, we need at least some of this:

– Systems that reward a variety of playstyles, not just brain–dead total KoS shooting.
Yes, technically something already exists (killing raiders gives less XP than killing ARC), but that is nowhere near enough.

– Counter–measures against constant extract camping and stream–sniping for highlights.
Shoutout to that “Partisan” from EFT – at least there, there is a dedicated NPC whose whole job is to hunt down ratting campers. In ARC Raiders, there is not even a hint of that kind of counterweight to this playstyle.

– A clear communication stance: what kind of game this actually is and what behavior is considered “normal”.

– Basic boundaries for friendly play.
For example: if you signal “I am friendly”, get a clear “yes, me too” back, and then the guy just shoots you in the back – that should be reflected somehow: karma hits, reputation loss, something. And honest play, on the contrary, should be rewarded.

You could even go for a more radical approach: put the “bad boys” in lobbies with other bad boys, and sane players with sane players, with some kind of redemption system if someone decides to start playing normally. The online population allows this – there are enough people to separate rats and normal players into different lobbies.

Silly, colorful and surreal. Wattam lives up to the expectations that come along with the Keita Takahashi name. This one has a little more existentialism in the story than either of the two previous Takahashi games but is still very lighthearted. The game is very casual and can be completed quickly if you don't end up goofing off for extended periods of time. I played through this with my child who was 4 at the time and the game was easy enough that I only had to complete portions myself a few times, the real difficulty in getting a child to finish the game is that the current objective can be easy to overlook and forget about completely while running around turning other characters into fruits or piles of poo or "kaboom"ing everyone as Mr. Mayor.

The game is a must play for fans of Katamari Damacy and recommended for people who enjoy cute, casual games. It's also appropriate for children as long as you're comfortable with them playing as a pile of poo.