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If pushed, I’d describe my 2024 gaming habits as eclectic, but that would actually be a lie. All my favourite games for the year are actually very similar: they are all the best. Unfortunately, the realities of sharing website space with several less-correctos means they didn’t all make this year’s advent calender.
The fell moons rise, and in their cold glare emerges a parcel from the dirt. Bloat and gangrene, crimped as if by tourniquet. A dark promise wriggles within. Grip the fibrous handles, feel its jagged soul imprint upon your palm. Now pull! Rend the sinew, tear muscle from bone, hatch their fetid gift! The yoke draws near! Take up the slip and read the words upon its face.
Time to enjoy your lovely joke!
Q: What d’you call a pair of komodo dragons making a sand castle?
2024 was my first full year at RPS, and as a guides writer, it was a year packed with the sort of games that make you roll your sleeves up, wipe sweat from your brow, and stare up at the sky from the trenches, ruminating on what life is like when you aren’t dealing with back-to-back Soulslikes interspersed with gacha games that feature incomprehensible lootbox mechanics.
The fell moons rise, and in their cold glare emerges a parcel from the dirt. Bloat and gangrene, crimped as if by tourniquet. A dark promise wriggles within. Grip the fibrous handles, feel its jagged soul imprint upon your palm. Now pull! Rend the sinew, tear muscle from bone, hatch their fetid gift! The yoke draws near! Take up the slip and read the words upon its face.
Time to enjoy your lovely joke!
Q: Why was the grave robber disappointed when he broke into Ubisoft’s tomb?
My selection box isn’t really a selection box. It’s a tray of barely-nibbled leftovers, hastily lifted from my Steam backlog. One of the disadvantages of being news editor, you see, is that I have developed a goldfish-grade attention span. In my hectic pursuit of the next scoop, or the next Elden Ring update changelog, I snatch and cast aside game demos like a pickpocket speedrunning the checkout line at Harvey Nichols. I’m dimly aware that some of these cast-aside games are Very Good. A few might even deserve to be played for longer than 30 minutes. I feel immensely guilty about that. Perhaps a little… existential, too. I have measured out my life in tutorial levels.
So! Rather than digging out three of the games I’ve actually completed this year, such as The Crush House, Death Of A Wish and Mask Quest, I’m going to gamble on recommending a few I’ve barely scratched, but which sure feel excellent and have attracted a positive critical consensus. If I am false in this assessment, may Horace the Endless Bear bite my head off for my impudence. Let’s begin.
The fell moons rise, and in their cold glare emerges a parcel from the dirt. Bloat and gangrene, crimped as if by tourniquet. A dark promise wriggles within. Grip the fibrous handles, feel its jagged soul imprint upon your palm. Now pull! Rend the sinew, tear muscle from bone, hatch their fetid gift! The yoke draws near! Take up the slip and read the words upon its face.
Time to enjoy your lovely joke!
Q: What’s an etiquette teacher’s favourite medieval sim?
Here we are, the final voyage of 2024. This is the last advent calendar entry of PC gaming website Rock Paper Shotgun. Days elapsed: 24. Writers employed: 8.
I hope this hurts.
The fell moons rise, and in their cold glare emerges a parcel from the dirt. Bloat and gangrene, crimped as if by tourniquet. A dark promise wriggles within. Grip the fibrous handles, feel its jagged soul imprint upon your palm. Now pull! Rend the sinew, tear muscle from bone, hatch their fetid gift! The yoke draws near! Take up the slip and read the words upon its face.
Time to enjoy your lovely joke!
Q: How can you tell a soulslike fan has fallen in love with a giant ape?
An ancient tale, often re-told – and that’s just the story of the development studio that made it.
The fell moons rise, and in their cold glare emerges a parcel from the dirt. Bloat and gangrene, crimped as if by tourniquet. A dark promise wriggles within. Grip the fibrous handles, feel its jagged soul imprint upon your palm. Now pull! Rend the sinew, tear muscle from bone, hatch their fetid gift! The yoke draws near! Take up the slip and read the words upon its face.
Time to enjoy your lovely joke!
Q: Why do oil rig workers only drink sparkling water?
