Yes, yes, I’m sure Silksong will be wonderful as soon as I’m awake enough to make any meaningful progress, but for now,No Man’s Sky continues to hold me in its grip. Partly, that’s because its recent ship-building update continues to be utterly captivating (even if my creations are stillnowhere near as good as this lot), but also because the excavation grind required to amass a good mix of customisation components is exactly the right kind of monotonous for those evenings when you just want to look at something pretty and disengage your brain.
As is fairly typical though, given No Man’s Sky’s absolute heap of distractions, things have taken a bit of an unanticipated turn. Instead of digging up ship bits, I’ve suddenly become obsessed with the palaeontology system I’d largely ignored when it was introduced earlier this year – and I’m now determinedly whizzing around planets unearthing prehistoric bones to add to my increasingly unwieldy collection. The brilliant bit is that acquired fossils can be assembled onto plinths, as your whims take you, meaning you can build an entire museum of strange and exotic creature exhibits to show off to your friends. And if you’ve ever wondered what it is about No Man’s Sky that scratches a particular itch for certain people, it can probably be found somewhere in the fact I’m now seriously considering building a travelling exhibition ship I can take on a cosmic tour.
Untitled Goose Game, Switch 2
Picture this: it’s raining, it’s dark outside, and it’s getting chillier, and you’re snuggled down in a blanket while causing havoc as a mischievous goose with no remorse.
Untitled Goose Game is a game I return to periodically simply because it makes me smile. That’s it – I can’t think of a deeper reason other than it brings me sheer, unrestricted joy. Being an agent of chaos, who’s ticking off a checklist of chaos, is a great use of a gloomy night.
Which is your favourite Soulsborne game? Bloodborne is certainly up there for me, which is why I decided to get the platinum trophy. This may have been an error. Where Elden Ring‘s NG+ felt like a victory run that I whipped through in a few hours, Bloodborne’s equivalent is far less of the speedrun I was hoping for. I’ve found it quite frustrating, though that’s more my own impatience than anything else. Still, I’ve been dipping into that notorious Chalice Dungeon for a blood boost. You know the one – I can’t publish the name here.
Herdlings, PC
Yes, yes, I have been playing Silksong, but earlier in the week I was playing something else: Herdlings. And I’m glad I did. I’m glad I did because I’m glad games like this exist. Arty, seemingly ungamelike experiences – in that they aren’t designed around catchy gameplay loops – that are more about evoking a feeling rather than occupying your hands.
It’s a super cute and beautiful game – a game about herding strange furry animals out of a city, into the wilderness and up a mountain. But one thought stayed with me especially, and it’s to do with the mental handshake there is between your imagination and a game when you play. If a game gives you a lot of information – if a lot is declared – then your imagination doesn’t have to come out very far to meet it. But if a game withholds a lot of detail, it encourages you to mentally reach out. And Herdlings does this.
There are no words, there’s no overt direction, nor are there any detailed customisation mechanics around managing your beasts. You can name them and clean them and pet them, and feed them, but these are one-button-press kind of things, with no associated gauges to fill. Mostly, these animals, they’re just there – you don’t know what they’re thinking or what they are. So you imagine it. You imagine personalities and stories for them – reasons why you found them in the way you did. Your imagination leaps forward. And together – you and the game – write a story.
It’s, gently, very powerful stuff.