Frostpunk 2 Review

Most sequels to successful games are safe, conservative iterations on the ideas of the original, but not here: Frostpunk 2 is a bold follow-up that takes an almost entirely different approach to its city-building strategy. It’s set in the same bleak, iced-over world where people struggle to survive, but it’s refreshing that we’re not retreading the same frozen ground. Everything from how you place buildings to how you manage resources and heat your city is a new spin, and its political system is a creative way to interact with the people of New London that does a great job of conveying a sense of quid-pro-quo negotiation in a representative democracy. The zoomed-out perspective does mean that we lose a lot of the feeling of intimacy that made the first game truly stand out, but there’s no shortage of morally questionable decisions to make as you’re building your society.

A frosty atmosphere is strong, thanks to bone-chilling weather effects and dramatic music that swells as tension in your city increases. Coming from a replay of the first Frostpunk, I was initially missing the ability to see people walking in the streets. That said, they do pop up with comments on your actions and an announcer on the loudspeaker gives occasionally amusing remarks on current events, so it doesn’t feel like a ghost town. The map itself is obviously fairly uniform because it’s covered in white snow and ice, but there are features like mountains and cliffs to give each area its own look, and as you build it becomes much more colorful thanks to intricate districts and the automatically created power lines which pulse red when tension runs high.

The five-chapter Story mode serves as something of a tutorial for the sandbox Utopia Builder mode, though aside from a few short cutscenes there isn’t a whole lot of plot driving it. There’s little here beyond a direct bridge between the events of the first game and this one as you take over the city of New London, with the vast majority of story coming in brief, affecting vignettes about life in the frozen wastes. There’s a lot to cover as you learn to place and expand multi-tile districts for housing, food production, resource/fuel extraction, industry, and logistics, each with its own set of upgrade buildings, plus single-tile hub buildings with adjacency bonuses.

It’s an interesting city-building puzzle with a couple of questionable quirks.

It’s an interesting city-building puzzle with a couple of questionable quirks: The frostbreaking system, which requires you to first clear out batches of tiles before you can build on them, makes sense in the fiction but feels like busywork that just slows down how quickly you can act on a plan. It’s also frustrating that you can’t reposition any single tile without demolishing the entire district and starting over, but at least you get all of your resources back so all it costs you is time.

When you zoom out to the vast and even more barren Frostlands map, the main features are the very Game of Thrones-inspired clockwork icons for your colony and outposts. Your scouts discover these as you send them on dispatch missions to explore and bring home many of the resources and population you’ll need to keep your colony going. It’s much more built out than the original’s version of the Frostlands, in that you must connect the resources you find there with roads to bring back a steady stream of them, then found and upgrade more outposts and even full satellite colonies to keep New London going. It’s very much a side activity, but the rewards there are so crucial to building your population that I was motivated to check it frequently and keep the resources coming.

The main thing that bothered me here is that you can’t see your factions at the bottom of the screen when you’re not in your main city, so if things start going wrong as you’re off building your resource operation it can get out of hand before you notice. I’d also have loved to be able to zoom out further, since the Frostland maps can get huge and scanning for where my scouts just finished a mission takes too long.

You can’t just produce enough to keep the lights on – you need to overproduce as hard as you can.

The challenge of feeding your colonies’ central generator’s need for fuel and keeping the city supplied with heat, food, and materials is fairly conventional and straightforward for supply chain games, though in a few major ways it does become more complicated at times. For one thing, massive Whiteout storms hit every so often and shut down the entire Frostlands map, disrupting supply chains and leaving you to subsist on your stockpiles for months at a time. That means you can’t just produce enough to keep the lights on – you need to overproduce as hard as you can to avoid having your people freeze to death by the hundreds.

Speaking of freezing, I did hit a couple of bugs with the interface, such as where I had to click on certain dialogue choices a bunch of times before they’d register. Sometimes the buttons on the UI would overlap and clicking it would register on the button underneath instead of the one that was more visible on top. It’s also a little annoying that it locks up for several seconds during an autosave, but there was nothing severe. It’s worth noting though, that – as with most games of this type – the higher your population goes, the more performance is prone to decline.

The centerpieces of Frostpunk 2 are its faction and government systems.

Arguably the centerpieces of Frostpunk 2, though, are its faction and government systems. This is where you must strike a balance between opposing groups of citizens by keeping promises around how they’d like to see you run the place. You don’t lose by having your colony wiped out (it would be quite a challenge to get the population down to zero) – instead, you have to worry about your people losing trust in you or the tension level rising to the point where they boot you out of office. It’s all too easy for a shortage of any of the resources to send you into a downward spiral where everybody’s mad at everybody else and society collapses.

My first time through I made the rookie mistake of assuming I could blow off one faction entirely if I kept the others happy, and at first it seemed to work. You can research whatever technologies you like with the push of a button (and a small fee) but passing laws – often needed to actually enact what you’ve unlocked through research – can only be done through the Council, which is made of 100 representatives of your city’s factions. Frostpunk 2 has a fun way of displaying the votes, where members’ seats light up as they cast theirs, and any vote you don’t lock down in advance is a roll of the dice. Bribing – or rather persuading – a faction to vote your way is a matter of making promises to do something on their behalf. Most of the time they want you to research a specific tech or pass a law that aligns with that faction’s worldview, but sometimes they’ll take cold, hard cash (ironically called heatstamps). Even so, factions won’t negotiate at all if a proposal is against their worldview, so some votes are still nailbiters.

My first time through I made the rookie mistake of assuming I could blow off one faction entirely.

I had a lot of fun with the fact that, if you play your cards right, you can often be rewarded for doing what you’re planning on doing anyway. The interface helpfully tells you which version of each research item (most have different options that might, for instance, cost less to build and boost production but pollute more or create tension) is supported by which faction. Armed with that information, you can go to them and see if they’ll ask you for it, and if they do you’ll build extra trust when you research it. Similarly, it’s always hilarious to promise a bothersome faction they get to choose the next law that’ll be voted on in order to get their relationship bar out of the red, only to then whip votes against it and see them get nothing out of it.

So I could usually pass any law I wanted with a supermajority of support, ignoring the extremists who were upset when I pushed through policies like Free Essentials to feed the people or Accept All Outsiders to boost my population, whether they could work or not (hitting population numbers is one of the main goals). However, there’s a catch: until you unlock some of the heavier-handed and authoritarian policies, that approach leaves you vulnerable to protests that shut down production in your districts, injure bystanders and destroy equipment, and of course raise tension through the roof. That means you’ll have to come back to the table and negotiate, which can be difficult to do while riots are slowing everything to a crawl. You do get more tools to deal with dissenters as you go, up to and including rounding them up and leaving them to freeze to death in outdoor prisons (I eventually won the story campaign by finally deporting the troublemaking faction to their own colony) but many of those cause tension to rise and trust to fall when used. There’s no easy answer, which makes it a compelling problem to solve.

My first run of the Story mode took about 15 hours, including a restart when I figured out exactly how bad my initial decisions had been. I’ve since put in another 20 in the Utopia Builder sandbox mode with objectives like founding multiple colonies with 10,000 residents or building tall with 50,000 in your home base, and there’s a promising amount of replay potential in Frostpunk 2. Not only are there six major factions (and their radicalized offshoots) to mix and match – and seven different Frostlands maps to play on – but there are different paths you can take by leaning into different philosophies that unlock different radical ideas. Doing a run on a higher difficulty than Officer – the one recommended for Frostpunk veterans – would certainly require spending more time getting to know the factions’ preferences than I did on my first successful run to avoid angering them unnecessarily.

There’s a promising amount of replay potential in Frostpunk 2.

I can’t help but feel that we’ve lost something important, though, in expanding from the small-scale perspective of the first game to a multi-colony big picture – one where you can only see your people when you hit a button to do a close-up to observe a handful of them milling around. For instance, seeing a message pop up that 93 children died in a mine collapse doesn’t really hit the same when it soon vanishes without obvious repercussions. It was a lot easier for me to think of those kids as just stats on a spreadsheet when they never even had names that I can view in the graveyard, like I could in Frostpunk. Frostpunk 2 is just too big for that.

“Back up a second,” you might say. “What were 93 children doing in a mine in the first place?” Well I’m glad you asked. In one of my smarter decisions as Steward of New London – one that was enabled by my choice to go with an apprenticeship system instead of mandatory schooling for children because it increased my workforce – I opted to send them in to gather coal that was inaccessible to full-grown adults. The other option was to blast the way clear, but that would’ve given me less coal. No one could’ve foreseen anything going wrong with that plan!

Forstpunk 2 is always throwing decisions like that at you and then serving up consequences, often making me feel a little dirty for picking the one that gave me the boost the spreadsheet said I needed despite the human cost. So while it might not land the punches as effectively, it certainly takes a lot of swings, and those add up.

Frostpunk 2 review: I became a dictator because everyone was so goddamn annoying

Frostpunk 2 was an ambitious gambit. With survival achieved, and the introduction’s excellently sinister advisor whispering evil Tory ideas, the whole city you built in Frostpunk is now just the headquarters for a sprawling expansion effort, and your rule is no longer absolute. Rather than retread the same “prepare for ultra-Winter” ground, your biggest obstacle will likely be your own people, now formed into shifting political parties, and looking outward with colonial eyes. The result is a complicated, laborious survival citybuilder that’s two parts compelling, and one part frustrating for the wrong reasons.

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Random: New Pokémon Animated Short Is Seriously Adorable

Let me get a peek-at-you.

There’s no shortage of adorable animated Pokémon content out there (heck, most of it is enough to bring a smile to our faces), but The Pokémon Company’s latest effort, ‘Chasing the Moon,’ is one of the best-looking ones we’ve seen in a while.

Released by TPC’s official Japanese YouTube account to celebrate the Mid-Autumn Festival, this new short sees a lonely Pikachu trying its best to hunt down a Lunala and get a good view of the full moon. Okay, it might not be the most riveting story, but the visual style is super cute, with each ‘mon looking almost like it’s made of card against the gorgeous hand-drawn backdrops.

Read the full article on nintendolife.com

Dead Rising Deluxe Remaster: 12 ways Capcom renovates Willamette Mall

The Plucky Squire Review

As a lifelong Zelda fan, I’m always hesitant when other developers set out to make a game so clearly inspired by Nintendo’s acclaimed action-adventure series. I find that the puzzle design never quite reaches Zelda’s incredibly lofty bar, and I’m usually left wishing I was just playing Ocarina of Time or A Link Between Worlds instead. But The Plucky Squire breaks that trend, with a combination of clever brain teasers, simple but effective swordplay, and a courageous silent protagonist that would feel right at home in Hyrule. The adventure is held back by an overly wordy script and some serious pacing issues in its final act, but this debut game from developer All Possible Futures is still a journey worth taking.

The Plucky Squire’s elevator pitch is brilliant: You play as Jot, the hero of a children’s book who learns early on that he is, in fact, just the hero of a children’s book. This leads to a surprisingly meta story where Jot leaps between the 2D pages of his picture book and the 3D real world around it, which is represented by the childhood bedroom of a young Plucky Squire superfan named Sam who collects all of Jot’s stories and merchandise. That unique premise paves the way for The Plucky Squire’s inspired puzzle design.

While within the story’s beautifully animated depictions of beaches, villages, and mountaintops, Jot can manipulate the book’s text to alter his reality and get past obstacles. Need a closed gate to swing open? Jot can literally pick the word “Open” off the page from another sentence in the book and swap it into the prose lying in front of the shut gate. It plays out like a (substantially) lighter version of Baba Is You’s rule manipulation, and it’s a blast to experiment with different combinations of nouns and adjectives to see how the world reacts, like turning a tiny frog into a giant frog for no reason other than wanting to see if it would work. (Spoilers: It did.) It’s not the most flexible system – each scenario with this concept only includes a handful of eligible words Jot can interchange – but it’s still a really impressive mechanic the developers use in several smart ways throughout the adventure. Through the power of language, I filled a drained moat with water, turned sturdy columns into crumbling ones in order to topple them onto an enemy blocking my path, and a whole lot more.

The Plucky Squire hits some awesome puzzle-solving highs.

Wordplay is just one smart way The Plucky Squire takes advantage of its storybook setting. Jot can also pop out of the book and turn from an adorable hand-drawn 2D character into a fully 3D version of himself that’s reminiscent of the toyetic look of the Link’s Awakening remake and the upcoming Echoes of Wisdom. When outside of the book, Jot can play God and directly manipulate the world within, with powers like tilting the book on its side to slide blocks around or even flipping back to an earlier page to grab a word or item that he needs on the current one. Backtracking through pages to find The Plucky Squire’s optional hidden collectibles also resulted in some cool “aha!” moments, and I could see myself going back to snag the ones I missed. The book’s myriad uses forced me to zoom out and think bigger about the tools at my disposal, and The Plucky Squire hits some awesome puzzle-solving highs within these segments.

The only issue is how many hints The Plucky Squire constantly throws at you. Before I was set loose on most puzzles, Jot’s endearing companions Violet, Thrash, and Moonbeard have a whole conversation about what you need to do. This inclusion is even more confusing when you take into account The Plucky Squire’s well-implemented optional hint system, where a recurring character that’s pretty much always around will tell you exactly what you need to do next if you ask for help. It’s frustrating that the developers lay out too much information through mandatory dialogue rather than leaving it to the hint system so experienced players can try to piece it all together without hand-holding.

In fact, chattiness is a problem throughout the entirety of The Plucky Squire. Characters are always stopping to have lengthy conversations about what to do next, and while it’s all well-written dialogue, I found myself wanting to mash through these extensive sequences to get back to the action. The incessant over-explanation of Jot’s mission to take down the evil Humgrump is one way The Plucky Squire feels aimed squarely at a younger audience, but the witty humor and lighthearted tone just barely save it from becoming a major drawback.

The outside world goes well beyond the pages as Jot explores Sam’s bedroom to find new abilities to interact with his book. These exploration sections are a wonderful change of pace from the puzzling nature of the storybook, and Sam’s bedroom is a delight to run around. Like you’d expect from a young boy’s room, toys and LEGO bricks are littered everywhere, and Jot platforms across playing cards and building blocks to find his next upgrade. In these sections, Jot can hop in and out of sticky notes and children’s drawings, which makes the whole thing feel like a creative take on A Link Between Worlds’ wall-merging mechanic. There are a few minor technical issues in the real world – I noticed some shadows flickering in and out and I had one hard crash – but for the most part The Plucky Squire looked and ran great on PlayStation 5.

It’s jarring when The Plucky Squire completely loses its stride in the final act.

Combat works the same whether Jot is in or out of the book. He can swing his sword, throw it at enemies like a boomerang, and make use of powerful jump attacks and spin attacks. These moves can all be upgraded at shops that pop up across the land of Mojo, where you spend currency that’s mostly found – fittingly – by cutting grass. The swordplay is simple, fun, and rarely challenging, but for a game mostly focused on puzzles, I don’t mind that the fights are basic bouts to rip through on your way to the next big riddle.

The Plucky Squire is also continuously working to shake things up. There are plenty of 2D platforming segments within the book’s pages, and sometimes the book turns vertically to give things a fresh perspective. But The Plucky Squire really flexes its creative muscles within the minigame segments that crop up regularly throughout Jot’s journey. There are homages to things like Punch-Out!!, rhythm games, shmups, and more that I won’t spoil here. Whether you’re uppercutting a honey badger or fighting off aliens while flying around inside a toy box, every minigame here is so charming and fun to play, and I loved seeing how the developers shook up the art style and character designs for each one.

With great pacing between the storybook, real world, and minigames for the first five hours of the roughly eight-hour campaign, it’s jarring when The Plucky Squire completely loses its stride in the final act. First, Jot loses all his abilities, and you’re forced to go through a very generic stealth section to recover all the powers you already spent the entire game gathering. It’d be like if Metroid ripped all of Samus’ upgrades away moments before the final boss and forced you to gather the Morph Ball and Grapple Beam a second time. What’s worse, this section takes place in an entirely monochrome world, sucking all the joy and color out of Sam’s bedroom and turning it into a dull trudge over tired ground. This section doesn’t take all too long, but it’s followed up with The Plucky Squire’s final dungeon, which is a repetitive march through samey rooms along with a rhythm stealth minigame I had to repeat three separate times. After facing a final boss that also goes on a phase too long, I was ready to be done before the credits even started rolling. It’s a shame, because The Plucky Squire is so delightful for most of its runtime, but that last third unfortunately leaves behind a sour aftertaste.

The Plucky Squire review: a charming storybook adventure, but I wish it let you go full plucko mode

I really wanted to like action adventure The Plucky Squire more than I do now, having given its charming 2D to 3D platforming a proper whirl. Yes, it’s lovely to look at. Yes, hopping out of a storybook and making friends with an illustration on a coffee mug is cool. And yes, everyone can have a mildly fun time with its puzzles and fights. But that’s the problem: who is everyone? At first I thought, “This game is for young kids and that’s fine!”, given its relative simplicity. Then I hit some puzzles and thought, “Ain’t no kid figuring this out”.

Then it hit me. It struggles to balance the fine line between being approachable for tiny tots and layered enough for people who’ve graduated from “goo goo ga ga” to “oo oo aa aa my back hurts”. And that’s down to how plucky you’re allowed to squire at any given time, because it can be surprisingly limited and, sadly, a bit underwhelming.

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The Sims Project Rene Will Get Another ‘Small, Invite-Only’ Playtest This Fall

Today, Maxis dropped a ton of The Sims-related information spanning the games, the upcoming film, content creators, and more. While some fans may have been scouring the updates for news on next-gen Sims release Project Rene, there wasn’t much to go on…except that there will be another invite-only playtest of the game coming this fall.

Per Maxis, Project Rene will hold a “small, invite-only playtest” in the fall, “giving an early look at a multiplayer experience that explores joining friends and other players at a shared location.” Interested individuals can sign up to participate in the playtest here.

This is the second publicized public playtest Project Rene has held since its announcement, having previously had a similar small, closed playtest focused on furniture customization way back in 2022.

Project Rene was first announced in October of 2022 as the “next generation” of The Sims. Maxis has held off on referring to it as The Sims 5, and has said it expects the game to continue co-existing alongside The Sims 4 rather than replacing it. We’ve seen very, very little of the game since, though we know it allows for furniture customization on a level of detail previously impossible in the franchise, and that it will support cooperative multiplayer.

In the same update, Maxis announced a number of other The Sims-related news bits. These included confirmation of a previously-reported The Sims film directed by Kate Herron, and the introduction of The Sims 4 Creator Kits allowing content creators to craft and publish in-game assets in partnership with the studio.

We recently updated our review of The Sims 4 to reflect the state of the game in 2024, and gave the now free-to-play game an 8/10 thanks to its strong community and frequent updates.

Rebekah Valentine is a senior reporter for IGN. Got a story tip? Send it to rvalentine@ign.com.

UFO 50 review: a pixellated portrait of the 1980s that offers a strange sort of time travel

You can’t travel back to the 1980s. But what if I told you it was possible to gently warp your memories of that time? UFO 50 is a kart of 50 games that once existed for an old computer system, all lovingly restored by a gang of coders. The old console, of course, is a fiction. The LX-I never existed. But it’s a fun pseudo-history against which to create a grab bag of small games (some throwaway, others mighty) all designed with a distinct 80s look. It’s an exercise in adhering to an aesthetic. Like an oil painter working with a limited range of colours, the developers of this bundle have stuck to a 32-bit equivalent of the Zorn palette. Yet play a little of each game, and you start to sense the smirk of chronos. These games aren’t stuck in the past, but they are enjoying a holiday there.

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People’s heads keep exploding for no good reason in I Am Your Beast and I’m very much onboard with it

Strange Scaffold’s newly released FPS I Am Your Beast is very fun for quite a few reasons, but chief among them is a deep appreciation for the poetry of good videogame violence. I’m not using the big P word just to throw out an overly worthy comparison to something we might associate with craft or beauty, but as a nod toward the game’s playful application of what I previously called ‘a euphoric splurge of murderous game verbiage’ one morning where I had clearly eaten my wordy Weetabix. The way its hurled knives and curb stomps and inexplicable decapitations flow together have an assonant, almost Suessian quality to them.

But it’s also, well, just a bit like Mad Libs. You play as Harding, a man who’s mythical lethality is established very early on. The showing is there in the moment to moment, but the telling is conveyed through cute tricks like how everyone you meet is so deeply afraid of Harding that they loudly keep track of exactly what weapon he’s holding at all times. The Mad Libs comes in through the fact that you can draw Harding a route between A and B, and it’s a given that multiple heads are going to come unstuck from necks along the way. You’re sort of just casually filling in the verbs that seem the most fun to you in the moment. One of the verbs is ‘hornet’. Hornet is a verb now.

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