Here are my top 10 games for 2017! Minor spoilers for a few of them, but nothing major. You’ve been warned!
10. Resident Evil 7: BioHazard
There have been 27 Resident Evil games, including remakes, remasters, 3DS releases but excluding pachinko machines and Tiger Electronics handhelds. Of those near thirty games, Resident Evil 7 brings the total I’ve enjoyed to… two. I guess this is my way of saying that between being a huge scaredy cat and irked by the stuffy, smothering control scheme of the originals, there’s no nostalgia weighing me down whenever Capcom reinvents Resident Evil, first with Resident Evil 4, now again with 7.
But where Resident Evil 4 took the fantasy of being a special agent in a world full of monsters further than ever before, Resident Evil 7 drops it completely. In it, I’m a wimp, a nerd with a camera at the whims of this family of maniacs, trapped on their grounds by a drive to find my wife, who is changing into… something. Capcom smothers me with a pervasive sense of helplessness playing RE7, forcing me into a desperate scramble to escape the unstoppable Daddy (side note: “The Unstoppable Daddy” was my nickname in college). Filling me with absolute dread when the disgusting creature Marguerite becomes clambers through holes and onto walls. And forcing me to freeze up and take a deep breath at the sinking realization that my next goal is all the way across the grounds.with god knows what between me and it. Even the change to a first-person view means your helpless doesn’t stop at your ability to fight - you don’t even know what’s around you. Resident Evil 7 left me terrified and anxious throughout, which is saying something since played it on Easy.
It’s now an annual event that, despite a perception that Adventure Games are dead, someone releases a labor of love whose beauty and finesse showcase the best the genre has to offer. Gorogoa asks you to interact in the simplest terms - zoom in and out, or drag and drop. What makes Gorogoa special is that when I do those things, it feels like I’ve changed fundamental ways that I think. My perspective on the world has shifted about ten degrees to the left and all the rules are new. That combined with hand-drawn visuals, stark sound design and desolate narrative made Gorogoa a brief yet crucial experience for anyone looking to see games as more than loot-box dispensers.
8. Star Wars: Force Arena
Oops, speaking of Loot Boxes. Well, card packs? Is there a difference? Where have we come down on this? The conversation around gaming in 2017 has been dominated by a debate about the ethics of selling random pulls at cards, skins, characters, horses, buggies, whatever, and I’m going to level with all of you - my perspective is skewed. I make mobile free-to-play games, which use this mechanic, and I’ve been playing collectible card games since the Revised core set for Magic: The Gathering came out in 1994. So one way to look at my opinion is that I don’t have a problem with this way of selling people games, and a much less charitable one is that I’m fully indoctrinated. Either way, being able to get emotionally side-step this entire debate has lent me the clarity of mind to tell you all that Star Wars: Force Arena is good as hell.
Force Arena is the real-time, head-to-head gameplay of Clash Royale, but with direct control of a Hero, MOBA-style, then Star Wars’ed all the way up. Every system is implemented in a smartly and cleanly, facilitating my ability to get into the game and getting out of my so I can let people know my Han Solo deck is not to be flexed with. The whole thing is catnip for Ol’ Maloney over here, and I am straight rolling.
7. Star Wars: Imperial Assault - Legends of the Alliance
Is spaghetti a sandwich? Is Chewbacca a dog? Is Matt Kessler a mongoose? Is Legends of the Alliance, an app for Star Wars: Imperial Assault, a video game with physical components or a board game with a digital accessory? The line between board games and video games is get blurrier, as outstanding digital components have begun to take the place of cumbersome bookkeeping, or allow designers to add elements that would be impossible to achieve otherwise. Or, in the case of Legends of the Alliance, replacing the Imperial Player entirely.
Traditionally played as a team of rebels against a monolithic Imperial player, Legends of the Alliance turns Imperial Assault into a fully cooperative experience, running the campaign as a virtual dungeon master, setting up your next level and directing Imperial enemies to attack your heroes. But more than simply emulating a now missing player, Legends of the Alliance takes this chance to add something to the experience.
Without the app you bounce from one XCOM-esque tactical mission to the next, but now… now you go on non-combat missions. You make friends in the world. You feel a real sense of betrayal when you learn not all the Rebels are working for the greater good, and you deal with the emotional aftermath with other characters when the Empire manages to grind you under their heel. These things weren’t in the box of plastic and cards I bought years back - they were exclusively part of Legends of the Alliance, and creating new memories and experience while justifying asking you to bring your laptop to your tabletop.
There’s a vital sincerity to Horizon Zero Dawn. After borrowing mechanics liberally from Far Cry/Assassin’s Creed, adding giant robot dinosaurs, and then putting the voice actress behind Borderlands 2’s (in my opinion, brutally irritating) Tiny Tina front and center, it would have been so easy for Guerrilla Games to smarmy one-liner their way through this post-post-apocalypse adventure. Instead they cast that all aside to carefully bring you into a world without even a hint of irony.
At the center of the game is Ashly Burch’s Aloy, full of wounded confidence and strength tinged with kindness, a performance so natural yet thoughtful that Aloy stands above any other character in games this year. That sincerity doesn’t make Horizon a serious or grim affair - there’s jokes, and boy howdy is there a lot of flirting - but it serves to draw the player into the world, rather than establish a safe ironic distance from which both the player and the game can remain “cool.” Every choice shows that Guerrilla Games truly wants me to care about Aloy and the world of Horizon. It turns out I do.
For me, 2017 was a year of shared gaming experiences. I’ll get to the other two big ones below, but I’d be remiss if I didn’t include this nightmare of a Black Mirror episode, this scheduled dose of Quiz Daddy Scott Rogowski, this twice daily car crash with a cash payout, HQ.
For months at 3 PM, I’d jump into Discord with my friends and join in the collective hypnosis of a new game of HQ. We were beyond captivated. We had a million questions - who is Scott? Why does he vamp with the intensity of someone hosting at gunpoint? Where is he broadcasting this from? And when he’s not there, where the hell is Scott? Who is this rando who claims to be ‘Scott’s Boy’? How does the player count keep growing, and how does this thing make money? It was a mystery wrapped in tech startup poppiness and a screaming man in a suit, and we wanted to know everything about it.
Like any mystery, as we’ve learned more about Scott and HQ, our interest has waned and my friends have fallen off the Trivia Train. But for months, once a day we’d simultaneously drop everything and delve into it. Something nothing else in games or television has gotten us to do for years. Also, uh...
I’m playing a game called HQ Trivia. You should play too. Use my code “caseymalone” to sign up.
In late October 2017, was there anything I needed more than some unabashed joy? A full-on celebration of bright colors, silly characters and bizarre hats? Super Mario Odyssey would be an incredible game at any time in history, but the timing of its release felt like more than just a game; it felt like a balm. A warm weighted blanket sewn from my old t-shirts, taking nostalgia and making it into something new, something calling me to come back and crawl under it all day, every day. A game that rewarded me for just being in the world, asking me to challenge myself at your own pace, issuing pats on the head and individually wrapped chocolates as a reward for just wandering around and doing my thing. 2017 was a year where Nintendo was dedicated to challenging what people expect from them with their hardware, their mobile ports, and another of their major franchises. When it came to Mario, though, Nintendo clearly just wanted to make people happy. And I’m so, so grateful for that.
3. Destiny 2 & 2. PlayerUnknown’s Battlegrounds
Destiny and Battlegrounds seem like pretty starkly different experiences, but what I got out of them in 2017 was the same - time with some of my best friends. Friends who live in Los Angeles, New York, New Jersey, England, San Francisco; people I never get to see, people I don’t even get to talk to that often. But those friendships got actually stronger this year through these games.
That wouldn’t be possible if the underlying games weren’t outstanding - Destiny 2’s shooting feels incredible, and its endless list of chores made sure there was always a mission for me to suck friends into, or a goal for me to help them out with. There aren’t (currently) many Strikes for us to go on, but honestly that helped - when you know all the beats, a zen-like state takes over and you can enjoy the lock-on and kickback of hand cannons without worry. All the while catching up, making goofs, or ranting about the state of the world without the game getting in the way.
Destiny 2’s not perfect - a lot of the changes made from Destiny to Destiny 2 to make it smoother and more welcoming turned solo play into a dull shade of its predecessor. But as a part of a Strike Team, Destiny 2 hums with efficiency, getting out of my way and letting me and my friends have fun.
And it would be second to none this year if wasn’t for PlayerUnknown’s Battlegrounds.
Battlegrounds is insane, it’s a fun-time mess-around machine paired with an intensely hardcore military shooter, a game that’s thirty minutes of a goofy chatroom capped off with two minutes of a game-ending firefight. Except for when that fire-fight lasts for twenty minutes and it’s the most intense experience of my life. I’ve had as much fun losing PUBG as I’ve had winning (the few times I’ve managed to snag a chicken dinner), and I’ve had even more fun when I die and get to stay in voice-chat to cheer on the rest of my squad, spectating through to the end.
While I don’t get much out of watching strangers stream on Twitch, I’ve been lucky that enough of my friends stream this game, for a while on an almost daily basis, that I had just as much fun watching them as actually playing it. I laughed so hard when friends would get motorcycles trapped in a tree, cheered when they’d have from-behind victories, and feel heartbreak when the squad’s last hope would get shotgunned from behind after escaping tough spot after tough spot. Somehow all these feelings were just as strong as when I was behind the controls myself. There’s magic in this game, which boggles the mind, because with its bugs and frankly generic style, it could not possibly look less magical.
I cannot fucking believe I’m typing this but it turns out the real game of the year was the friends I made along the way.
1. The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild
Just kidding, game of the year is The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild.
I always have less to say when I get to the top item on my list because what could I possibly say about Breath of the Wild that hasn’t been covered already? Nintendo stripped so much out of the Zelda series that honestly when I started playing it, I felt uncomfortable and exposed - what do you mean my weapons break? Wait, I don’t have to buy bombs, I just HAVE them? When are the DUNGEONS going to show up, what are these shines? I don’t like this at all. But as I bristled against those, I was slowly filling with wonder. Every canyon I walked out of, every corner I turned, every hole I climbed out of revealed a field with towns and caverns, or small forests full of unknown treasures and monsters.
Lots of games do open worlds, but where Skyrim feels like I could get lost in it, the Hyrule of Breath of the Wild feels like I am conquering it. In Skyrim I feel like I’m exploring the map - in Breath of the Wild, I’m making it.
I remember so clearly, late at night, climbing to the top of a bridge that crosses Lake Hylia. I don’t know why I was there, or what I thought might be at the top of the tower, but Nintendo put it there, so maybe. Maybe there was something. I climbed to the top and there wasn’t anything for me to take, but as I looked over towards the horizon, Hyrule stretched on forever. I felt overwhelmed with the possibility of disappointment - that I would feel the need to climb it all, that there wouldn’t be a thing for me at the top of most of those towers, under those rocks. And as I thought about that the music changed. From the water of the lake emerged Farosh, the lightning dragon, soaring, completely oblivious to me. He was beautiful, powerful, made me forget about any of my goals or collectibles and forced me to take in his majesty. Forced me to realize there were no rupees or arrows up there because this moment was my reward. And that there would be moments like this all throughout Hyrule. I just needed to go looking for them.
Near Misses: Injustice 2, Everybody’s Golf, Mario Kart 8 Deluxe
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