I adore Returnal. And playing Saros right now, which I enjoy very much, actually reminds me of how incredible Returnal is. Besides all the graphics rendering techniques, its visual identity, the moment to moment, deep lore, narrative structure, character development, and also how a video game finally managed to adopt a middle age woman as its main so it can tell a story that only makes sense through that unique angle, it is the way it incentivises players to do things that I find absolutely genius.

And that health system is the best I’ve experienced. Ever.

I have a few eternal battles in my life. One is regarding how video games should always give the initiative to the players. Another one is the importance of coherence and how each system, every feature, should work together, create synergies, to make the main function better. Returnal is an action game that is all about players shooting at stuff. All the time. The players are always in control. The players decide when to go into a run. The players shoot first. And everything in this game is built towards giving more initiative to the players and making that experience better.

And then, the health bar.

I always had this problem with health, and perks, and upgrades in general. Since Super Metroid. I like Super Metroid. I finished it many, many, many times. I even replayed and finished it last year. On my Super Famicom, plugged into my Sony PVM. Classic. The right way. I 99%’d it because I forgot one tiny bomb. Or something. Not too bad without any guide, only based on my childhood memory. And tons of grind. But despite how much I like it, I also think it is so stupid that you start a game, knowing nothing, being a complete noob, and you are given zero perk, nada. You are squishy, fragile, vulnerable when you are the most in need of everything. You haven’t developed any skill. Actual skill. But then, after 10s of hours, after you understood the game so well, once you’ve developed the right muscle memory and have a great feel of the possibilites, at that point, you are also given massive upgrades, tons of perks, and a huge life bar. A life bar, heart, or continues are all the same, they are just different visual representations of mistake allowance. The more health one has, the more errors one can make. And normally, noobs make more mistakes than pros. So…

Why? Why would a game give more health over time? Why is the reward for being better at something an allowance for more mistakes? Shouldn’t it be the exact opposite? In any proper education, we teach people to be better, to make fewer mistakes. We don’t incentivise students to make more errors as they learn and progress. So, why do we do so in video games?

The irony is that to deal with the problem of a power increase making the game too easy, the designers usually scale up the enemies as well… so, players don’t even get that potential power fantasy that could come with such a design philosophy. It only creates a perpetual inflation that becomes extremely difficult to balance without bringing anything truly cool to the one’s experience.

For many years, I thought that the best way to deal with it correctly is how Diablo has done it. Classic Diablo, the first and the second. The real Diablo games. In those games, the world doesn’t scale up but it opens up new areas for players to explore. And those areas have harder challenges. I like it because I can still get that power fantasy if I want to, I just go around those early areas and bash everyone. And when I feel like an adventurer, and when I want some challenges, I’d go wandering around those high level areas.

And then, came Returnal.

In this game, the player has a pretty short bar. And it is quite brutal. It is a bullet hell and it really means it. Housemarque’s folks come from traditional arcade shmups and Returnal looks like DoDonPachi with an extra-dimension. And it is awesome. Die and retry: get gud. The game rewards players to be aggressive. It is one of those shooters where you are incentivised to move all the time, to go in contact, to plan ahead while also adapting in real time. To be active. A real action game. And to help players, it drops some health potions from time to time. They are scarce though. Usually, they are here for players to have a chance to fight the next arena. But they help. A lot. Especially in the beginning. So, when you are learning the game, you highly rely on those to progress and learn. But if you pick up those potions while having a full bar, the bar itself increases. Think about it: if you didn’t make any mistake, you are allowed to make more mistakes later.

Genius.

It now offers a clear progression path. In the beginning, players make mistakes even against those weak monsters because they are still learning the basics. They take those health potions to keep fighting and going forward, fighting new monsters. At some point, they learnt the game well enough so they own the weaker ones quite easily, and they’ve gotten a taste of the stronger ones. So, the health bar now gives them more allowance to fight those stronger ones. And it goes like this. If the game initially gives just a bit of help so players can get to see the next room and have a fighting chance, really, in the long run, the game actually rewards expertise and perfection. The game educates the players to be better. And when players manage to beat a boss or clear the game, it is so rewarding because they know that they did it. They did it. The players became better. Not the game.

The players have the initiative. The players decide. The players win.

It is a wonderful system.

I’m obsessed with ILM. Not just the company but also its name. I’m so envious of it. Industrial Light and Magic. I always adored that name. It means everything to me. It shows exactly who they are, what they do. It is the perfect name. And I told myself, that one day, maybe, I’ll be part of a company with such a great name.

Almost 25 years later, I was living in the very town where George Lucas wrote Star Wars and within walking distance from ILM’s offices when they made the famous movie. And I was given an unique opportunity to name a project. We didn’t think of a company yet at that time. It was just a project. Something cool that we wanted to experiment. But still, when it comes to naming something, anything, somehow, it is always a long discussion. You always have the same archetypes: the practical people who just want to get something done, the marketing nerds who want something great for SEO, the legal folks who want to make sure it isn’t copyrighted already, and the unreasonable ones. I was in that last category. I didn’t care about any of the objective arguments. I didn’t care about the logic. I wanted something like ILM. No matter what they say. I will impose it in one way or another. I will get to name that project. The only thing I had to do was to come up with something.

And I had no idea. And as usual, when I’m out of creative juice, I go for a walk or I sleep. I came home too late to walk so I slept. In the morning, I had something.

Electric Dream and Reality.

As a huge Science Fiction bookworm, I grew up fascinated by the works of Philip K. Dick. I only found out many years later that he attended Berkeley, also not too far from my place. Electric Dream and Reality was the perfect name for a project about video games. It reminds us that a video game is both a piece of software and a piece of arts. It connects the ideas of fantasies and product. But more than anything, it reminded me of my favourite company’s name. I found mine: EDR.

That was my ILM.

I texted Marcus about it. I texted him because he is cool. And also because he is a serious guy. A world-class operator. Someone who is objective. I was looking for some sort of validations. Because I already knew that my other partners will fight against my proposition. I could feel it.

There is that scene in The Social Network where Justin Timberlake gives one last tip to Jesse Eisenberg: “drop the ‘The’; just ‘Facebook’”. I always found that scene so cringe, so cliché. I thought that this is so Hollywood. I roll my eyes every time I watch that scene. And Marcus just did that to me. And he was right: Electric Dream was perfect.

So I thought.

A few hours later, I was given a laundry list of all the reasons why this is a terrible name. Too long, bad for SEO, too confusing, not explanatory enough, etc. It’s funny how people would trust me to define a complex product, a global strategy, or even the vision of a company, but they will fight me to death for a name. Maybe it is easier to have an opinion on a name because almost anyone can come up with words.

But maybe they are right. Maybe it was a terrible name. So, I asked my friends. And who are better with words than the literal experts of words: the writers. And more specifically, those writing fictions. They were all nice, all replied quite quickly, and I had some great suggestions. The best ones probably came from Robert. For instance, he suggested “Magnets & Miracles”. I liked it quite well. Another top contender was “C Major”. I really liked the musicality of it. But something was missing. And I couldn’t put my finger on it. I just felt that something was off.

More importantly, I still liked Electric Dream. But my partners clearly didn’t feel the same way. Maybe it was too personal. Maybe that was the missing piece. How could I bring them to the party?

電夢. I have no idea how I came up with it. It just came to me like this. Suddenly. Maybe because I grew up in France reading manga and watching Japanese animation. Maybe because my first consoles were all Japanese. Maybe because I had just started learning Japanese at that time and I wrote kanji every night. I knew I had something really cool. It was clean. 2 characters. It was beautiful. And since it is in kanji, instead of reading it in the kunyomi way, which is the native Japanese reading, I’ll read it in the onyomi way, which is derived from Chinese: DENMU. A Japanese name, read in its Chinese way, written in kanji, that is a direct reference to one of the most influential western authors, about software and dreams. DENMU. A team composed of American, Chinese, and French, with everyone having direct Asian and European roots, who worked and lived all around the world, and on a mission to turn dreams into memories. This is who we are. This is what we do. The perfect name.

DENMU.

I grew up reading magazines. I didn’t have the means to buy them so I read a lot at the local bookstores or borrowing them from friends. Joystick, Playstation Magazine, Player One, etc. I still have vivid memories of those pages, full of blurry photos of CRT screens, wild texts, full page ads of doubtful taste, and the beautiful mise-en-page. And I remember those dossiers, the interviews, the multi-page exclusive coverage, and the critiques. L’art de la critique. Something I miss dearly. In a world of abundance, where everyone wants to scream louder to be heard, to be noticed, I miss that simpler time where people can have a real conversation. La critique à la Française is a false friend and often misunderstood as to criticise or to mock. La critique is also not a review nor any promotion. La critique is all about creating a conversation, a dialogue, to confront different perspectives, so everyone creates new thoughts. That’s why when I read those old articles, they still help me to come up with new opinions that lead to new ideas. And this is why those old articles still hold value today, even after 20-30 years.

I thought the time had passed. I thought that the world had changed and we are now living in the instantaneous tyranny of real time. Just like many, I was hooked on it for a few years as well. I was one of the first adopters of Twitter, I was also among the first users of Facebook in Europe, and I opened my Instagram account when it was still about taking squared pictures. But in recent years, I started to be bored of the incessant flow of information. Valid or not. It’s been more than 2 years since I decided to decrease my usage of the internet. I realised that I wasn’t happy anymore. If the web was this amazing place of sharing, learning, and discussion, it is now a giant billboard for ads.

And then, I discovered A Profound Waste Of Time. I bought all the mags solely based on my friends’ suggestions. « You gonna like it. » That’s it. No additional context. Nothing. If I consistently switch off all those notifications and never browse any app anymore, because they are all trying to sell me something, I still enjoy talking to my friends. IRL. Over a café or during a proper meal. They know me. Not my buying patterns. Not my last input entries. Not my most clicked categories. They know me.

I got the collector editions because they are so beautiful. Though I didn’t know how they’d actually look before receiving them. This is part of the charm. And when I got them, of course they were all beautiful. I haven’t had magazines for years. I kept buying physical media. I have about 900 video games in physical copies, close to 500 movies in Blu-ray/UHD, and a couple hundred albums on CD. I enjoy revisiting them quite often. But what I probably have the most are books. Any sort of books. Fiction, non-fiction, arts, photos, essays, poems, etc. Most of them are still at my mom’s and I’m so grateful that she allows me to keep them in her bookshelves. I still only read books. On paper. I choose those hardcover versions too, if I can. I used to only have the pocket re-editions because I couldn’t afford the original ones, but now, I can splurge. I like the tactile experience of turning those pages. I like feeling the texture, the weight, the smell. I tried to get into audiobooks but I just fall asleep listening to them. And I can’t bear reading on a screen too long. Maybe I associate screens with work too much but I just can’t get into anything looking at words on a screen.

And I don’t remember the last time I purchased a magazine. Might be cultural.

I remember that even back then as a kid, my mother was very open to buying me books but somehow, she disliked magazines. « Ce n’est pas de la vraie lecture » as she would say often. So, I squatted my friends’ Joystick and Joypad. And PlayStation Magazine. Or Canard PC. Or Edge. Well, I’m almost 40, I can finally buy those magazines myself. So happy. And I received the first 4 issues in October 2025. And I got the 5th edition a few weeks after as well. They are so cool. I wasn’t expecting those magazines to be so thick. I like the touch. And the colours. I was so excited when I got them, but I let them sit on the bench of my vestiaire as I was travelling a lot, only to realise I hadn’t even opened any of them when I came back from those trips. On December 14th, 2025, in the morning, I started reading them. The mise en page is fantastic. Exactly what I like in physical media. Each page is either a painting or a poster. I like the design, the font, the way it connects with me through all those different visual elements. Often, I would just look at those paragraphs, without even reading anything, just looking at those blocks of text. And it made me happy. And of course the words are nicely crafted too. I enjoyed the writing. I had no idea what those magazines were about and I’m gladly surprised they are about exactly what I’ve always wanted to read: cool stories about the artisanat of video game. It isn’t something practical like a tutorial for setting up an engine or a review about any title. I recognise almost all the featured writers because I played their games. I like how everyone has their own style, their own flow, their own approach. I related to all those stories because they are about people. People who make video games. It isn’t a comment on any metric nor is it some pieces of news with graphs and charts trying to guess whether XYZ was a breakout success. This is more. APWOT is exactly what the title suggests: it isn’t useful. It has zero utility value. And it is profound, deep, full of greatness. It is full of meaning.

I quickly arrived at the middle of the first tome. That little booklet marks a first pause. Time to save. Time to bio, probably. Or to rest my eyes for a second. Or two.

By going through those pages, I feel warm and connected to the writers. I feel like I’m understanding them a bit. Even people I already knew of. It doesn’t necessarily mean I agree with them. But I get them. This is what art is about. A medium to connect people. I decided to google their names and read a bit about them too. Art cannot be fully understood without knowing the context. A piece of art, even if it is a commercial product, cannot be properly apprehended without knowing the artists behind it. And if art can make someone interested in another person, isn’t that the most formidable thing?

This is a formidable magazine. I’m happy I bought them. But I’m happier I found time to start reading them. I got great friends. With great taste.

When Crimson Desert dropped, I was already in France. If I still have a few consoles around, my PS5 Pro was back home, in Marin. As usual, I don’t read anything about a game before playing it, so I completely ignored all the reviews and all the hype about it.

But a few days after its release, Ryan sent me a link and asked my opinion about it. The link directed to a thread regarding a specific in-game painting. The most vocal players criticised the usage of generative AI and how this is yet another illustration of everything wrong with the current massive adoption of it. It went so hot that the developers issued a public apology, explaining that it was supposedly used only for drafts and, (in)directly, blaming QA and quality control in general.

At the moment of my writing, I still haven’t played the game. I have very little idea where this painting is, nor do I know how many occurrences there are. I have no sense of its purpose and I also don’t know whether they are central to the quest or the adventure. And all these elements help my assessment and drive me towards one opinion or another. I don’t think the answer can be as trivial as “they used generative AI, therefore it is bad”. As usual, the answer is always more complex. But when I looked at that painting, I felt empty.

A few years ago, I got to meet Satoru Hosoi, a formidable artisan, meilleur ouvrier de France. I admire his craftsmanship. He makes beautiful leather bags and his standard is so high that he had to leave Hermès so he can freely create what he truly wants. When I visited his atelier one day to start a new project, we spent some time talking about his visions and how he turns his ideas into beautiful objects. One thing he told me shocked me at the time: he doesn’t stitch everything by hand. There are some stitches that he wants to do with a machine because he thinks it looks better. As still a neophyte in the arts of leather crafting, I’ve always believed that hand sewing is the epitome of maroquinerie. I’ve been practising my technique with such dedication, trying to make perfect stitches, and completely refusing to use any machine, because I thought that was the mark of the true makers. But it isn’t. And what Satoru told me that day showed me, in an instant, the enormous gap between a meilleur ouvrier de France and myself. By focusing so much on the technique, I’m actually the robot who only understands the production, the execution, when Satoru is the true artist. Satoru is so sure of his technique that he is way beyond that, he is free of such mundane considerations, and so he can create his masterpiece.

I appreciate things done well. I’m on the side of whether you do it and do it well or don’t even do it in the first place. In that regard, without any specific context but that somehow, someone put such a horrendous piece in a game, that screenshot disgusts me. But I’m also on the side that art is about the expression of an idea, a sentiment, through a medium. As someone who appreciates both classic and modern art, I’ve learnt quickly to look beyond the object and search for its meaning. And this is the sin of a bunch of people using generative AI. The lack of purpose. The lack of meaning. And worse than all: outsourcing what makes us human, our ability to feel and to communicate our feeling, to a machine.

There is a beautiful passage in Hyperion, in Chapter 3. Dan Simmons wrote:

I truly adore this paragraph. What makes a poet isn’t the ability to use words but to feel the world. I don’t know the people who generated that painting. I don’t know the context and without playing the game, I can only guess their intentions based on a lousy screenshot. Maybe they wanted to give a feeling of grandiloquence and something classic. Maybe they felt French and wanted to express that classic vibe through their product. Maybe they had the vibe, the passion, the idea, but they lacked the words.

Dan Simmons continued with one of the most extraordinary paragraphs:

Maybe those developers were poets. Maybe not. Only their intentions will tell.

When I got my first Polestar, I remember asking the manager which tires were coming with my car. She said they were Michelin tires but I could change them if I wanted. I smiled and said that they were exactly the ones I wanted. Still, many people don’t realise that the tires are made by the same company publishing the famous red guide. Why would a tire company, in the middle of nowhere — even by French standards — somehow create a culinary guide? Because they are smart, they think forward, and most importantly: they understand how to create demand through positive reinforcement. Nowadays, almost anybody knows about le guide Michelin. Or more specifically, they know of the Michelin star. But still many are confused about the definition of the rating. As a tire company, they wanted to sell more tires; therefore, they wanted people to drive more. So, they came up with this guide to incentivise people to drive around, to explore, and because we are in France, the best way to do so is to tell people where to go eat. The star system is brilliant and still hasn’t changed since 1900. 1 star defines a very good restaurant in its category. 2 is for excellent cooking, worth a detour. 3 is about an exceptional cuisine, worth a special journey. The guide was distributed for free to all drivers and quickly, it helped define modern cuisine.

I wish there was a guide just like that for video games. And because it doesn’t exist, I decided to write it.

Le guide Michel is a guide for video games that is updated annually. And no, it isn’t the game of the year. It is on purpose not yet another GOTY-type of ranking. The goal isn’t to tell people what was good recently, not what was good when it was released. Instead, it is about what is still good today. At 40, I often find myself being nostalgic. It is so easy to think that it was better before. But, really? How about plugging that cartridge and try to play it again? It was probably great back then but is it still now? I had tons of fun playing it when I was a kid but would I still recommend a kid today to try it? And that’s the mission of this guide.

Every single game that is featured is reassessed every year. In addition, new games will be added. The evaluations focus on the quality of the product, the mastery of the technique, its meaning, its consistency, and most importantly, the experience it offers.

And I am the judge.

At the time of this post, I have 860 games in physical copies, from the third generation console (Famicom) to today. I will only present games that I own physically, that I’ve played and finished fairly recently. This isn’t dismissing non-physical releases, nor shall you see in this decision any comment about the quality of live services or mobile games. I have to start somewhere and as a Silicon Valley-formed product manager, I’m also quite aware of scope density and scope creep. Maybe in 126 years this guide will feature crypto games and have 200 writers worldwide, but for now, it is just me, my taste, and my time. So, if your favourite game isn’t featured here, don’t take offense — most probably, I just didn’t have time to play and finish it.

How to use the guide:

Rewards:

1 star is a good game in its category: if you like the genre already and the game is easily available, go for it.

2 stars is an excellent game, worth checking: even if you don’t play the genre that often, or if it is close to one you like, if it is easily available, try it.

3 stars is a masterpiece worth playing: even if it is in an unfamiliar genre, and even it is hard to get, still dedicate some time to find a way to experience it.

Notes:

For each game, I’ll specify the version I own. They might not be the best version nor the one I played the most, but at least you have some context. Obviously, PC games are heavily under-represented in this format since they rarely come in physical boxes anymore but the best of them still get ported on console usually.

2026 Michel 3 star games

Alien Isolation; PS4: the best Alien adaptation. The game delivers the stressful and claustrophobic feeling of being isolated in a tight space with a monster. Just like the first movie, we both fear and are fascinated by the creature at the same time. The ambiance instantly transports the players to those iconic places and fully immerses them until the very end. The design is clever and keeps the players on their toes at all times.

Baldur’s Gate 3; PS5: the ultimate D&D campaign. Rarely has a game offered so much richness, depth, and agency, while also providing top-tier production value. The game is spectacular and dense. The perfect union of quality and volume. The game offers so many different ways to play, and experiencing it solo or with friends is also widely different.

Bloodborne; PS4: an extraordinary setting, perfectly executed. This is peak “classic” FromSoftware. The level design is smart and the atmosphere is a unique Victorian, oppressive, and Lovecraftian experience. A fantastic horror RPG.

Catherine; PS3: one of the only puzzle games that I enjoy playing, thanks to its great setting, hilarious story, and fabulous characters. The animation and all the visuals are top-tier, and even the gameplay is tight and intense.

Chrono Trigger; SFC: one of the best JRPGs ever made. A rich and deep lore, with perfect pacing and great moment-to-moment gameplay. Everything packaged perfectly with the magic of Akira Toriyama’s unique style. The story is complex and interesting, leading to 13 different endings and offering true, meaningful NG+.

Dead Space; PS3: the reference for all third-person horror games. The game still looks fantastic and it features the best UI ever created in the category. It is stylish, immersive, and perfectly implemented. The pacing is perfect and offers some of the most iconic moments in video games.

Diablo 2; PC: a perfect game that is still played by millions and that changed the concept of RPG and A-RPG forever, by keeping the essence of what makes the genre great while simplifying and reducing all the frictions to the minimum. A perfect liaison between moment-to-moment and meta-progression.

Disco Elysium; XBO: arguably the best classic CRPG ever made. Fantastic setting, fantastic story, and fantastic game design. The writing is so good because it is way more than just cool dialogues. And more importantly, it is a classic RPG that got rid of its worst feature: fighting.

Donkey Kong Country 2; SFC: one of the best 2D platform games ever made. Graphically amazing, the game is smooth, well-directed, with tons of secrets and well-paced challenges. Playing this game always feels enjoyable and despite its difficulty, it never feels cheap or unfair. The game is pleasant both as a single player and playing with a friend.

Doom (2016); PC: the best arena shooter. It is spectacular, it is rapid, it is nervous, it is brutal, it is violent, it is cool. The music is amazing, the levels are designed to perfectly fit the gameplay, and all the enemies are made to help players be more creative in their approaches. Playing Doom feels like dancing in constant flow.

Elden Ring; PS5: the most extraordinary exploration game, where every piece seems to be connected, to have some sort of meaning. The epitome of an adventure, delivered in the most grandiloquent way possible with neat and focused gameplay.

Fallout; PC: a masterpiece in setting and storytelling, with one of the most compelling content delivery systems ever designed: random encounters. There is a before and an after Fallout. Rarely has a CRPG felt so stressful and so immersive.

Fallout: New Vegas; PS3: the best 3D Fallout, fully giving life to the extraordinary apocalyptic world. A game with fantastic writing and some of the most iconic characters. The choices feel consequential. It takes everything that was right about Fallout 2 and made it better.

Final Fantasy VI; SFC: a great collection of characters, with unique backgrounds, skills, and looks. Rarely has a game succeeded in making all the different characters’ arcs so interesting and meaningful. It is the benchmark for multi-character-driven JRPGs. The story is epic, the system is pleasant, and it has one of the best villains ever written in video games. Graphically splendid, the score of the game is also fabulous. The game has one of the best introductions too.

Final Fantasy VIII; PS: a true love story, perfectly executed. Everything is about those main characters and their relationship. It feels like “us VS the world”, it is “choosing the to save the love of my life instead of saving the world”. The most unique narrative in the series, capturing the essence of the romantic drama. Graphically, the game is still superb, and everything is wrapped in some of the best scores ever written in the series. The game has beautiful art direction and also offers one of the best mini-games to date.

GTA 4; X360: the best story in the franchise, exploring difficult themes such as immigration, trauma, disillusionment, and the failure of the American Dream. In many ways, GTA 4 is to video games what The Great Gatsby is to literature.

Hades; Switch: the benchmark for modern rogue-lite top-down action games. It is instantly engaging, with fantastic moment-to-moment gameplay. It also features fantastic meta-progression with the most innovative narrative design and content delivery in years. Rarely has a game made dying part of it — and even fun.

Halo: Master Chief Collection; XBO: the best example of great remastering for some of the best shooters on console. Halo single-handedly created the console FPS category back then; the remaster makes it still relevant in today’s world without changing its core. It feels Halo, it looks Halo, it sounds Halo, it plays Halo, it is Halo. And it rocks.

King of Fighters 98; AES: the title describes the game perfectly: it is the king of fighters. The cast is fabulous — almost every character from the series is back for this dream match. The gameplay is so tight, refining on everything that was already great, making it perfect. No story, no fluff — this is combat in its purest form. Beautifully executed, perfectly tuned, every round is a joy to play and a joy to watch.

Metal Gear Solid; PS: the best MGS in the franchise. The perfect stealth action game, packaged in a spectacular and cinematic way. Everything feels meticulously crafted. The camera angles, the enemies’ placements, the bosses, the cinematic sequences — everything lands at the right place and at the right moment. The game is focused, the gameplay is tight, and everything adds to that infiltration fantasy.

Metal Gear Solid 2; PS2: the best MGS in the franchise (bis). Because it cannot top the original, it does something different. And it works. A masterpiece in storytelling, tension, gameplay, and technical achievement. The game is dense and generous, but still feels focused and coherent. After so many years, MGS2 still plays perfectly today — a sign of its modernity.

Persona 5; PS5: the most stylish UI ever made in video games. Pausing the game itself is part of the experience. The story is entertaining, deep, and well delivered through iconic characters. It touches upon some of the hardest themes about adolescence and it handles those difficult conversations with a rare subtlety and tact. The game is just. Always. It’s pitch perfect. The combat is fun, with beautiful VFX, and everything is made to be stylish. The game also delivers the Tokyo fantasy better than any other game.

Prey (2017); PC: the best immersive sim to date, which starts with one of the best introductions in video games. As a horror FPS, the game establishes one of the most interesting environment to play around. Everything feels natural, coherent, logical. It feels right. The level of agency is incredible. There is no puzzle, only problems. Nothing feels set. There is never just one path, not even a best path. The game rewards creativity and exploration. And the gloo gun is such a genius idea that transforms every space into a multidimentional playground.

Red Dead Redemption; X360: an extraordinary adventure in the extraordinary setting of the far west. The characters are well written and credible. I particularly like the moral complexity and their evolutions. The western has never been treated so well before, with such seriousness and respect. The game is dense, detailed, and while smaller than its sequel, is also a bit better paced.

Returnal; PS5: the best TPS on PS5. If the studio left the industry with one of the best arcade dual-stick shooters, they came back with this modern, fast-paced, ultra-stylish, insanely polished and modern take on dual-stick shooters. They didn’t just add a dimension to what they were masterfully doing before. They’ve re-invented the genre.

Signalis; Switch: one of the best art directions ever. The sound of it still haunts me after so many years. The game is the epitome of great tone consistency: everything adds to that surreal feeling. Rarely has a game explored the themes of memory, loss, and identity with such exactitude, depth, and elegance. The gameplay perfectly fits the proposition and is core to its argument.

Slay the Spire; Switch: the best deck-builder game, with impeccable moment-to-moment gameplay and progression. Every card and item seems to work in perfect synergy to deliver some of the most exciting and addictive experiences in video games.

StarCraft: Remastered; PC: the best RTS, with a rich lore, a great story, and the Brood War expansion offers the best online PvP ever in this category. The Remastered version keeps everything the same in its core and makes the experience more pleasant on modern monitors.

Super Metroid; SFC: the game that defines Metroidvania. Visually striking and super slick, the story is almost told entirely through gameplay and environment.

Tetris; GB: a perfect game. Simply the most elegantly designed game ever. If there is one game to be featured in the History of entertainment, Tetris will be and always be the best representative of our industry.

The Hundred Line: Last Defence Academy; Switch: the most ambitious visual novel ever made, combining the best of the two greatest visual novel authors and designers of the past 30 years. An extraordinary game that pushes the boundaries of the genre to a level that may never be reached again.

The Last of Us Part II; PS5: the perfect conclusion of a game about love, hate, and fate. Everything is perfectly mastered and directed. A cinematic experience that delivers emotions beyond any movie. I only finished the game once and I’m still so traumatised by its conclusion that I don’t dare trying it again. The game marked me forever, creating deep emotions that last forever.

The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild; Switch: the best Zelda and probably also the best Nintendo game — one that demonstrates all the company’s years of experience. The most incredible and absolutely perfect onboarding to one of the greatest open worlds ever crafted.

Titanfall 2; XBO: the best solo campaign in a recent FPS. The shooting is precise, tight, responsive, and gives satisfying feedback. The story is epic and so intense. Masterfully paced, there is not a single frame of waste.

Uncharted 2; PS3: the most incredible action-adventure experience, across all media. The game is so influential that even Hollywood steals ideas and scenes from it. The game features one of the most brilliant openings ever created and leads to a perfect roller coaster. This is the epitome of action and no one tops it, every medium included.

Valkyria Chronicles; PS3: the best J-TRPG ever made. An extraordinary story, mixing melodrama and war tales, offering some of the most powerful emotional beats in the category. The hybrid combat system is inventive and still fascinating. The personality system perfectly fits the overall mechanic.

Super Mario World 2: Yoshi’s Island; SFC: superb. This game is phenomenal at every single level. The art is phenomenal. I still can’t believe it runs on a Super Famicom. The audio experience is phenomenal. Nintendo had to create a custom chip on the cartridge to make it happen. The gameplay is phenomenal. It reverses the roles and gives us something we never expected. The level design is phenomenal. It is so deep, so rich, packed full of great secrets and challenges.

Zero Time Dilemma; PSV: Uchikoshi’s magnum opus, building on the foundations of 9/9/9 and taking the complexity to its ultimate level. The branching is insane. The narrative design is insane. The story is insane. One of the most brilliantly written games ever.

2026 Michel 2 star games

9 Hours, 9 Persons, 9 Doors; DS: one of the best games released on Nintendo DS, fully utilising the hardware’s key features and demonstrating why the console is made for visual novels. The writing is engaging, deep, and full of memorable moments. Uchikoshi also shows his unique talent in narrative design, crafting an experience only possible in a video game.

Divinity: Original Sin 2; XBO: building on top of its solid foundations, DOS2 expands the universe, making it richer and more pleasant to explore. The level of agency is incredible and there are so many ways to interact with the world. The environment is reactive and feels alive. But where it truly shines is in co-op: still one of the best CRPG games to play with a friend.

Red Dead Redemption 2; XBO: the ultimate western fantasy, with unreasonable detail, fantastic voice acting, incredible graphic rendering, and one of the most realistic worlds ever built. The game defines the fantasy so well that even when I visit places like Yellowstone or the Grand Canyon in the real life, my first reaction is always “this looks like RDR2”.

Silent Hill 2; PS2: a true survival horror at every level, using psychological horror rather than just monsters or gore. The atmosphere is inimitable. The fog, the music, and even the clunkiness of its movements contribute to it. The game respects the players’ intelligence by dropping just enough hints while letting them find their own truth, connecting with the characters through their own guilt, repression, and subconscious.

Fallout 2; PC: a very different proposition in the same universe. A bit less serious, with better pacing, the second entry expands the world of Fallout and establishes all the codes for the modern apocalypse genre. The game feels so much denser than it actually is, and every choice feels meaningful.

The Legend of Zelda: A Link to the Past; SFC: the game that defined an era and established all the codes for its franchise while creating a new category of its own. The game is wide and invites players to lose themselves. And players feel safe to do so because there is always something interesting — potentially iconic — to do, to see, to hear, to find. The game is charming, warm, and after a few decades, still resonates with its original fans and attracts new players.

Vampire: The Masquerade – Bloodlines; PC: one of the most reactive RPGs ever written. The world feels alive and all the interactions feel natural and important. The game perfectly understands the tropes and what makes vampires special. The dialogue is among the best ever, across all media, delivered in a fantastic atmosphere and setting.

2026 Michel 1 star games

Bioshock; X360: the game is still a benchmark for environmental storytelling with its fabulous art direction. It also offers great agency to the players so they can choose how they want to progress through that intriguing story.

Citizen Sleeper; Switch: a great science fiction adventure narrated through the form of a visual novel with RPG progression and fun dice-based mechanics. The art is also beautiful. A memorable experience.

Crazy Taxi 2; DC: still the best in its genre and probably the ultimate arcade experience. The gameplay is perfect. It takes a second to understand and the fun starts immediately. The game still looks great, runs smoothly, and that soundtrack is perfect.

Dishonored; PS4: the prime example of steampunk with neat gameplay. One of the most satisfying movement systems in video games, with strong level design to explore, delivering such a sense of freedom and agency.

Dragon Ball FighterZ; XBO: the closest to the manga and anime. The ultimate DB/Z fantasy. Never has a video game been so loyal to its original reference. And beyond the skin and the presentation, it is also one of the best fighting games ever made.

Gran Turismo 7; PS5: the ultimate car simulation, especially in PSVR2. The game instantly turns the players into a pilot. This is a love letter to cars. It isn’t just about the physics or the maths behind the simulation. GT it is about the feel, the joy, and the respect for those machines. If one likes cars, one likes GT 7.

Mass Effect 2; X360: takes the formula of its original entry and makes everything better. Better combat, better cast, better pace, and still delivering a great story with one of the best final acts in video games.

Seiken Densetsu 2; SFC: the best 3-player A-JRPG. The look, the sound, the gameplay, the story, the characters, the world, the monsters, the items — everything in this game is brilliant.

Stardew Valley; Switch: the benchmark for cozy farming games. So many different ways to experience it, and all of them are right.

Subnautica; XBO: rarely has a game offered such a sense of agency and exploration while creating terror at the same time. There is nothing like it.

Lost Odyssey; X360: one of the most ambitious stories ever told through classic JRPG mechanics. The best non-Final Fantasy Final Fantasy.

Mario Kart: Double Dash; NGC: the best Mario Kart.

Tunic; Switch: a love letter to Zelda, 16-bit era games, Souls, and adventure/ARPG video games in general. The title is packed with secrets and has so many layers. The definition of a miracle.

Ultra Street Fighter IV; X360: the game that reinvented and set the benchmark for all 3D-rendered Street Fighter games. Great controls, great visuals, and most importantly, always fun to play.

About 15 hours into the game, I started to realise that the idling animations change over time. I can’t believe they did that. How many players would actually see it? Because the animations don’t even pop up instantly. It requires the players to stop playing and wait without touching anything. In a world where attention is sparse and patience is a forgotten myth, I wonder how many people would even get those scenes. It was so random. I went to get another can of Coke upstairs. I usually pause the game when I do so, but this time, I just let it play. And when I came back, I saw Pauline interacting with Kong. I found it cute and so well made. It isn’t just a few frames. Pauline looks at Kong’s head and gently taps on it. Kong is taken by surprise and looks around to see what’s going on. Pauline then starts to brush his head, which makes Kong quite happy. And everything finishes with Kong being super proud of looking good with a big smile. Just thinking about it makes me happy. And then, I had a weird intuition that Nintendo might have gone further with it. I checked the animation from time to time to see whether there was any change. I initially thought they’d have a bank that they tap into randomly. But a few hours later, I realised that the animation shows the players’ progression. More specifically, it shows the affinity between Kong and Pauline. To verify that, I started another session, and Pauline was clearly shy, if not scared of Kong. She didn’t dare to touch the giant gorilla and only smiled back when Kong gave her a giant smile. People always talk about showing and not telling — this is a great example of perfect execution in video games.

I wonder why the developers thought of doing so. My practical mind immediately thought that in Bananza, because it is a real 3D environment, players are expected to spend a lot of time looking around and figuring out where to go next. And that’s why the developers thought it would be great to put some cool idling animations. But in reality, the game is so good at always giving something cool to do no matter where we go, and also does such a great job at guiding the players so we never get lost, that I just keep running and digging everywhere. I’m never idle. I wonder again how many players would even see these animations. See any of these small details.

But I’ve seen them. And a quick Google search shows that many others have seen them too. And more importantly, anyone who’s seen them has the same reaction as I did. We are in awe. And we feel the responsibility to tell everyone else about it. And these are the elements that make a game special. It makes the players who see them feel special.

There is that video shared across Instagram where you see a player showing off his skills playing The Last of Us 2. Specifically, he is playing the scene with Ellie strumming her guitar. Showing his PS4 controller, his fingers start to move, flapping around, swiping, tapping, clicking, and dancing with the DualShock 4. I immediately recognise the “Crimson Strum of Seville” coming through the monitor. It is beautiful. And it makes that scene even more special, in a way, considering what happens next.

I can find a bunch of friends who play the guitar better. I can also find a bunch of friends who play The Last of Us 2 better. And it makes zero sense to try to become good at a virtual guitar in a video game. Especially when being good at the guitar in TLoU2 doesn’t add anything to the gameplay. It doesn’t give more life. It doesn’t make the aim better. It doesn’t unlock any story bits. There aren’t any achievements or trophies for being better at playing the guitar in the game. AI can absolutely do that. AI can play the guitar in TLoU2 better than any human ever. It can play it perfectly, and quite easily, as it is already software and already “solved” from that perspective.

But AI won’t. Because it makes zero sense. And even if it does, there is still no sense to it.

But I watch this video again and again. And it makes me happy. It captures my attention and makes me proud to be human. Can you believe the number of hours this guy spent on this? This is the definition of a profound waste of time. And that is what defines us. That is the meaning I look for.

I spent the last few days re-arranging my room. I got some new storage boxes. Some cool labels. I meticulously placed every object back in its original packaging and made sure it is displayed correctly, always facing the light. I’ve never watched Marie Kondo, but I can definitely understand the appeal of such a show. There is something extremely rewarding about organising files, tidying up rooms, or cleaning something up. And after a long week full of stressful events, replacing all the games that I’ve finished recently on the appropriate shelf is as healing as a good walk in the forest.

As much as I dislike big crowds and noise, I still go to DICE, GDC, TGS, or CJ. It is my opportunity to meet all my heroes and get my games signed. I just came back from my last trip to Vegas. I’m sick. Mostly due to the dry and smoky air of the Aria. But I’m happy because I came back with my black leather duffle bag full of great loot. I still can’t believe I got my original copy of Icewind Dale signed. My driver drops me off, and the first thing I do is open the bag and let those great memories resurface. I brought more than 30 games there, and I come back home with all of them signed. I even got a few new ones I didn’t expect.

After a long and hot shower, now it is unpacking time. I decided to use this opportunity to re-organise my entire game collection. I’ve been in this place for more than 5 years, and what I designed initially doesn’t work anymore. For instance, I didn’t expect to have so many Switch games. As I’m writing these lines, I own exactly 100 games on that console, in physical edition. I need a plan. A new one.

Looking at my Excel table, putting that check mark, makes me feel good; Robert told me that RPG players like those long laundry lists of quests because it is so satisfying to go through them and check everything off. Looking at my shelf and thinking about how I placed those boxes in such an elegant way, and having all those cases stacking on top of each other perfectly, makes me feel good; there is a universal satisfaction about getting that bar at the right moment in Tetris. Looking at all those cases and boxes, arranged colour by colour, shape by shape, in alphabetical order, and all following a common logic, makes me feel good; I’ve watched so many hours of players building giant factories in Endfield, while I’ve spent even more time optimising my machines in Factorio, that I perfectly understand the satisfying expression of a well-oiled system. Looking at how clean it is, every label properly cut, written, and displayed, makes me feel good; we talked at length with Joel about how incredible it feels to just spray around in PowerWash Simulator and how I always liked to spend credits to clean my cars in Gran Turismo, despite the mechanics not contributing to performance at all. Transforming chaos back into order. Developing serenity. Directing a certain rhythm. Imposing my taste and building a cohesive ensemble, coherent over time. Creating a space of safety and comfort. A strong manifestation of our control over the environment. It is cozy.

When I heard my better half calling my name, I realised that I had spent the entire day re-arranging my collection. I’m only halfway there. No, not even close. I haven’t even started working on those cables. Ok, let me wrap them and I’ll put them with the corresponding console. It is the best way, so when I play, I know exactly which one to use. I’m not good at cable management though. It might take a while. I check my watch; it is almost 2100. Wait, it’s already been 2H since she called my name?!

I want to finish this before I go to bed. I have to.

While doing the cables, I start to realise something quite problematic. Now that I’m changing the disposition of my games, I also have to change the way I install my consoles. I completely forgot that I used to squeeze them on that same shelf. And now, there is no space for them anymore. Oh, I also have to change the way those lights are set up. And I probably need to put that PVM somewhere else. Maybe I’ll put those consoles in plexiglass boxes so I can stack one on top of another. I don’t have enough boxes. I need longer power strips too. I have to switch that outlet. I didn’t plan well enough.

It is almost 2200 now. Stores are closed. Though Target and Safeway are still open until 2300. But do they carry those boxes? They probably have power strips. But would they have the right one? And should I go to Target or Safeway? They aren’t that far apart, but just in case I can only hit one place. I have to choose wisely. I also don’t want to sleep too late because I don’t feel good the next day when I sleep too late. And now, I’m anxious. I can’t fall asleep easily when I’m anxious. Focus. I can’t focus, I’m panicking. I’m wasting serious time, and time doesn’t waste itself waiting for me to decide. I need to go. Now.

I’m back. It took me about 45 minutes. Longer than expected, but at least I got what I needed. But the boxes. I’ll have to adapt. I look at my game room, and this war zone illustrates the mess in my mind. What started as a walk in the park is now a furious chase against Chronos. An immense tension has suddenly taken over the quietude of the early morning. It is getting late. I made some progress. I should call it a day. But would I have time tomorrow to get it done? I look at my agenda. I’m learning Japanese, and I haven’t done my homework yet. I need to get it done before sleep. I feel like playing Persona for the first time. But I don’t have a second chance to make a perfect run. Actually, I still haven’t played Persona 5 Royal yet. I also have so many other games I want to finish before meeting my friends to discuss them. I also want to write about my experience playing Stardew Valley with my wife. I don’t understand why she thinks it is a cozy game. It is so stressful. I don’t get how she can take care of her garden, planting those cute little pumpkins and other veggies in such a peaceful manner. The game’s day and night cycle is so fast. And she doesn’t even plan ahead when doing those dungeons. I’m not even sure she has unlocked the Skull Cavern yet. And she isn’t maxing her GPE. She doesn’t skip that fishing animation. She needs to fish more too. And she needs to upgrade her weapon. And she has to stop wasting her time with those NPCs. And… so much to do. So much to change. How would she even survive playing like this?

I’m in my bed now, but Morpheus refuses me. My eyes are wide open, and I’m fighting against the urge to doom scroll. I’m thinking over and over again about my room. Things I’ve done and all the things I still have to do. The more I think, the more tasks I add to the list. I have to sleep now. I look at my Apple Watch, and I know it is going to give me a bad sleep score in the morning. Because it is the morning already. If I sleep right now, I’d only have 4H of sleep. I’m anxious again because I don’t have enough sleep. And therefore, I can’t sleep. Why do I do that to myself? And suddenly, I picture my game room. Well ordered, calm, pristine looking. I see all those lights correctly positioned, courting my beautiful consoles, well placed, welcoming. I see my games, organised as a tunnel of time, carrying decades of memories, transmitting all those past sentiments when I look at them. That’s why I’m doing it. Surviving is just a passage. I go through the grind for the eternal state of a cozy feel.

The singing of the birds resonates through the pixelated leaves and the wobbling trunks, announcing the start of a new day. The dense forest wakes up. The komorebi appears as the camera pans slowly, imposing its pace, showing the necessary tact for such a fragile and ephemeral spectacle. Then the horses. We hear their stomping before seeing them. There are many. Black. Tall. Majestic. The mysterious riders are covered head to toe, shrouded in grey; their faces are wrapped or hidden. The camera shakes as they pass by, disturbing the quietude, bringing chaos to the electronic painting. One of those masked men is carrying a kid with him. The kid’s orange shirt immediately distinguishes him from the rest. He washes his face as if he just woke up. Or maybe he is trying to open his shackles. Two hundred forty lines give the audience a lot of room for interpretation. The herd climbs the mountain and arrives at a monument. Vines creep all over the standing pillars, weeds comforting the sleeping ones. The camera tracks out. The leading horse prances and squeals. There is no path forward. A ravine separates the group from a large castle in the distance. The roaring fans are trying their best to keep the engine cool, pushed to its maximum to render the emotions Sony promised us all. That sound is part of the story now. I’m immerse and can’t tell what’s real from what’s not. All I see is a massive structure appearing in the mist while a chilling sound replaces the innocent whistling. From the intense hazy halo, three letters appear. ICO.

I was fifteen or so when I saw the box at my local Fnac. The cover is magnificent. It is one of my favourite cover arts ever. But back then, I didn’t appreciate it nearly as much as I do today. I bought it on a whim, with some of the cash I earned doing small jobs here and there. I don’t even recall why I bought it. Every cent counted, and back then I had to make sure the game I was getting was so good that not only would I play it over and over again, it also had to be good enough for my friends to be willing to trade with me so I could play other games. I knew nothing about it, and I gave my precious euros, trusting my instinct. That night, when I put the disc into my PS2, I was excited. I was already thinking about telling all my friends at school about that awesome game I got.

It wasn’t good. It wasn’t fun. None of my friends wanted it either. It stayed with me. And for more than twenty-five years, it sat on different shelves like a shameful trophy, reminding me of my mistake: listening to my heart instead of using my brain. I tried to like it. I tried very hard. Over the years, I tried to play it again, and again, and again. When I realised, after entering the game industry, that there is a considerable niche of top game designers who admire this game and cite it as a reference. What do they get that I don’t? Maybe I’m playing it wrong. Maybe I don’t play the right version. I got myself the PS3 edition. The frame rate seems more stable and the game looks sharper. But the gameplay remains the same. It is slow, it is empty, and it is full of puzzles. I hate puzzles, especially those where you have to find very specific solutions and solve them exactly the way some designers have arbitrarily decided. And the game doesn’t even have that many puzzles. Actually, the problem I had with the game is that it doesn’t really have anything. So empty. And everything is clunky. The entire quest is a giant escort mission, and the AI is terrible. That ghost girl is so annoying. She makes everything harder. She can’t even fight. The fighting itself is terrible. And I only have a stick. Seriously? Where is the sword? Where is my weapon upgrade? Where is my fireball? Where is the tech tree? What a waste of time.

Nineteen years ago, like many others, my life changed. I watched that presentation so many times. It was a magical moment. I knew something big had happened. I could feel it, but I didn’t know the magnitude of it. I had already been using Apple products for a while, but the iPhone was the catalyst that exploded everything I thought I knew. From that day on, I embraced a whole new philosophy of conceiving products: minimalism. Suddenly, everything I adored looked dated. My Walkman, my television, my fridge, mini Hi-Fi, but also Winamp, mIRC, Windows, and all the software I used daily. Around the same time, I also started learning from other product people about the importance of avoiding scope creep, the concept of an MVP, and the idea of a focused product. For the next decade and more, I preached the words of Silicon Valley, trying to turn every Yahoo! homepage into a Google search, every bazaar into an Apple Store, and clean every single icon from my desktop so that it only showed a giant wallpaper. Less is more.

A few weeks ago, I bought new cables for the SCPH-30000 that I found in a small shop in Tokyo a few years ago. It is pristine. I got it mainly because it has the best PS1 compatibility and also has the expansion bay I want to use for modding. I fell into the rabbit hole of analogue cables and wanted to experience my PVM fully. I never realised how much difference proper RGB would make. Now I’m wondering how I could convince my better half that we really, really, really need to upgrade to a PVM-20M2U. But that’s another story for another day. For now, my PVM-8045Q suffices. From that same place, I bought the original version of ICO, convincing myself I’d kill two birds with one stone since I’m learning Japanese as well. Now everything is properly set up, I’m out of excuses. I insert the disc. The PlayStation 2 splash screen instantly brings me back to a time when everything felt simpler. Time disappears. I am captured in a dream. And for the first time, everything makes sense.

I don’t know whether I needed a certain maturity or whether I lacked the code to decipher this piece of art and connect with its author. But at forty, I finally felt what others tried to explain to me. Those two minutes of introduction captured all my attention and put me in a rare melancholy. I felt the stress and incomprehension of the horned kid. I wanted to help him get out. And when I saw her, in her cage, I wanted to help her too. We would get out of this place together, no matter what. I take her hand and start running toward the exit. I stop. That animation, right there. She wasn’t prepared. She almost fell. I was a brute, dragging her like the Beast meeting Beauty for the first time and forcing her to dine. I felt awful. I wanted to say sorry. I hold her hand again. I start to walk. Patiently. I will not let her down. I will not harm her. Together, we will be free.

What once felt clunky now appears as delicately handcrafted animation, reproducing more than commands; they communicate affection. What was bad ai feels now precious. What I thought was empty only reveals my ignorance. The game is rich, and everything has meaning. It is an example of great environmental storytelling. Every moment reminds me of something I’ve played before, and I’m starting to see its enormous influence on the entire industry. The level design is extraordinary, giving a feeling of grandeur while being constrained to just a few biomes, giving the player a sensation of freedom through a linear experience, creating empathy and delivering profound emotion with a handful of polygons. It narrates a beautiful story with just a few words, in languages even the characters don’t understand. There is probably a part of ICO in almost every great game we play today. I can’t imagine what those Souls and Borne games would be like without the work of Ueda and his team.

ICO is a masterpiece that took me twenty-five years to understand.

A few months ago, I started noticing threads popping up here and there about architecture and design. People were discussing the beauty of old houses, vintage cars, and analogue tech products. People want to see self-edges again. They want to push buttons, touch textures, see patterns, display colours. Not so long ago, my friends looked at old photos of us and said the 90s really weren’t a good time for fashion. Now I see some of their kids dressing like they stepped out of Compton, flying back to the future in their pumps. In the current political climate, nostalgia comes naturally to all sides. Time has an incredible ability to soften sharp edges, leaving us with warm and beautiful memories. Maybe I’m just at that age. Everything feels better in retrospect, not because it was, but because I no longer have the energy to try new ways. Facts fade, and I replace them with fantasies.

But when I look at the pictures people share, I can’t deny that something was left behind: details, texture, layers, colours, nuance. I saw a picture of a metallic downspout shaped like a beast’s head. It was magnificent. My rain gutter looks nothing like it. This is fact. But I also know why. I contributed to that change. Focus. Function. Minimalism. There is a reason modern products look the way they do. It’s not that we lost our sense of beauty; we changed our priorities. Sometimes out of necessity. Almost always intentionally.

I read on Reddit that ICO has offers a different experience in the Japanese release on the second run. The dialogues have subtitles the second time you play it. I restart my PS2. The opening sequence is fantastic. I only learned recently that the cubes represent how much data is stored on the memory card. They become columns, growing as a symbol of the countless adventures over the years. It’s a delightful, playful idea. I look at the console. A block. Not yet at the level of minimalism Apple would later push onto the world, but already on that path. It reminds me of 2001: A Space Odyssey. That’s why I always placed the console vertically, like a monolith. In its purity, it shows greatness and might. It’s a strong message from Sony to the world: no one has dominated two generations back to back, and Sony will. Through the PlayStation 2, Sony shows how advanced they are. The PS2 is unlike any other console. It was alien. It was divine. The music pulls me back to the screen. The sound of space. An invitation to infinite possibilities. Just like the game I’m about to play again, Sony took time and care crafting its opening. Simple, yet beautiful. If Fumito Ueda is known for design by subtraction, what truly sets him apart is what he chose to focus on. ICO doesn’t optimise for utility, but for emotion. And that’s cool.

A few years ago, frustrated with expensive CRM tools for tracking investments, I built my own. I called it VC Tool, or VCT. It was simple. I made it for myself, and soon my whole team used it. I asked a friend to help make it more robust, but we always fought to keep it simple. We analysed usage down to the click to decide what stayed and what went. If a feature wasn’t used, it was removed. Over the years, I received many requests to turn VCT into something bigger. I always refused. It worked because it was focused. Dedicated. VCT was blazing fast because every step was optimised by removing all the frictions. The code was beautifully written. Everything was designed around a single goal: don’t waste the user’s time. It’s called VC Tool for a reason. Users should come in, get things done, enjoy it, and leave. We spent nights building it and choosing fonts, sizes, margins, and shades of white. Because we showed so little, everything had to be perfect. It was an unreasonably good product. And yet, I left one thing in: when all tasks are completed, a small confetti animation plays. We spent an absurd amount of time on it. It had no functional value. No utility. But it made people smile. And that’s cool.

I look at the start screen. I don’t want a second run. I shut down the console and play something else. I don’t want to read the official subtitles. I already had my experience. I have my interpretation. I’m satisfied. I smile thinking about this game.

ICO was cool.

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