Carolyn Petit’s Favorite Games of 2025

In a recent interview, musician Woodkid shared insights about collaborating with Hideo Kojima on the soundtrack for this year’s Death Stranding 2. When asked about his experience with the legendary game director, Woodkid recounted a revealing moment when Kojima expressed a concern: “I’m going to be very honest, we have been testing the game with players and the results are too good. They like it too much. That means something is wrong; we have to change something…If everyone likes it, it means it’s mainstream. It means it’s conventional. It means it’s already pre-digested for people to like it.”

This quote has been on my mind for months. As a gamer, I appreciate work that maintains its integrity. I dislike when I can sense designers bending over backward to make everything convenient and polished. That doesn’t mean I don’t value good design or that I want my time wasted; I just prefer experiences that don’t feel overly sanitized for mass appeal. Sometimes, I find mainstream games enjoyable, but it’s often in spite of their calculated approach rather than because of it.

This year, I played several games that were decent, and a few that didn’t resonate with me. However, I didn’t encounter many that felt truly special or exciting, which is why I’m sharing a top five instead of a top ten. This isn’t a reflection of the overall quality of games released this year; rather, it’s a result of my limited playtime as I’ve been focusing more on books, movies, and spending time with loved ones. Still, I did manage to play some standout titles. Let’s dive in.

First up is a game that left me feeling conflicted. The original Death Stranding is one of my all-time favorites, a bold and unique experience that has only grown more meaningful over time. However, this sequel, despite Kojima’s desire to avoid mainstream appeal, felt quite safe to me, leaning heavily into conventional combat and moving away from the environmental challenges that made the first game so rewarding. As noted by a critic, it also showcases Kojima’s frustrating tendency toward gender essentialism.

Yet, amidst the typical AAA action and some disappointing narrative choices, there were still memorable moments. I loved discovering that hopping into a hot spring could transport you to another location; it felt like a genuine part of the world rather than just a fast-travel option. And the game’s big reveal near the end is delightfully audacious, reminding us of Kojima’s ability to take risks.

Obsidian’s first-person fantasy RPG was a breath of fresh air, reminiscent of Morrowind in its originality rather than falling into typical fantasy tropes. I enjoyed exploring its world and uncovering its secrets more than I have in similar games for a long time. The narrative allows for significant events to unfold based on your choices, tackling big themes while working within its budgetary constraints. Avowed proves that mid-budget adventures still have a place in today’s gaming scene.

2020’s Streets of Rage 4 was a fantastic beat ‘em up, showcasing co-developer Guard Crush’s mastery of the genre. This year’s Absolum takes that expertise and applies it to a fantasy beat ‘em up with roguelike elements, and it delivers just as well.

I have a soft spot for fantasy beat ‘em ups, and Absolum makes excellent use of its setting, providing just enough lore to understand its central conflict and the personalities of its four playable characters. The art style evokes a lush fantasy cartoon vibe from the 1970s, and the random events and hidden secrets keep the world feeling vibrant. Battling its engaging bosses remains enjoyable, whether it’s your first run or your twentieth.

When you’re passionate about something, especially as a kid, it follows you everywhere. It’s present in school hallways, during hangouts with friends, and even in the quiet moments at night. Some passions set you apart, like my high school obsession with Peter Gabriel, while others can unite a whole community.

Despelote is a slice-of-life game centered around Julián, an Ecuadorian boy, during the weeks leading up to the 2002 World Cup. Julián is obsessed with soccer, and while his parents discuss life’s challenges, he’s focused on playing soccer games and kicking the ball around with friends. Soccer is woven into every aspect of life in Despelote, and the game doesn’t need to explain the significance of World Cup qualification; it immerses you in that experience through its brilliant blend of realism and surrealism.

There’s a common misconception that the more generic a work is, the more relatable it becomes. I find the opposite to be true. The more specific a narrative is, the better I can connect with it, appreciating both its uniqueness and the universal themes it reflects. I’m not a soccer fan, and my knowledge of Ecuador’s history is limited, but when I reached the game’s climactic moment, I found myself cheering. I finally understood: sometimes, soccer really is life.

Lastly, we have a game that truly captures the essence of James Cameron’s iconic sci-fi film, delivering pulse-pounding action and a distinctive visual style. No Fate stands out as one of the best arcade-style run-and-gun games ever made.

Some have criticized the game for being short, but I believe its length is just right. A full playthrough of Contra III: The Alien Wars takes about 30 minutes, and it’s packed with memorable moments, making that duration feel perfect. No Fate follows this principle; a run can take around 45 minutes, and once it’s over, I’m eager to dive back in. The game rewards repeated attempts with a scoring system that builds a multiplier as long as you avoid damage, showcasing impressive high-score runs from skilled players. The harder difficulty options also add interesting twists, changing enemy placements and behaviors rather than just increasing health.

Ultimately, it’s the stage design, pixel art, and precise controls that elevate this game to masterpiece status. It keeps you on your toes, transitioning from intense run-and-gun scenarios to thrilling vehicle chases and stealthy escapes, all animated beautifully and at an exhilarating pace. While many games this year attempted to recapture the excitement of classic 2D sidescrollers, No Fate truly hits the mark.

Growing up, I watched my fair share of cheesy TV shows, but I also found it to be a way to expand my horizons. Channel surfing in the ‘90s often led to unexpected discoveries, whether it was a documentary or a mind-blowing movie. TV was a gateway to learning about the world, art, and the quirks of humanity.

Blippo+ captures that feeling of flipping through channels and stumbling upon something great. Its diverse array of programs—signals from an alien planet—includes game shows, talk shows, cooking segments, and more, all tied together by a cohesive aesthetic reminiscent of classic PBS programming. But Blippo+ is more than just a collection of shows; it’s a narrative experience that immerses us in a culture on the brink of change. A better world is possible, and the revolution might just be televised.

Now, let’s talk about Pac-Man. I was young when he became a gaming icon, and he was everywhere—on shirts, in cartoons, and even in pop songs. But there was no single image of Pac-Man. In arcades, he was a simple yellow blob, while box art depicted him in various forms, including a sleek sphere or even a bizarre metallic robot in a rejected design.

Today, established video game characters often have standardized appearances, with every version needing to adhere to a specific look. Earlier this year, when Donkey Kong sported a slightly altered design, it was a big deal. But back in the day, video game characters were fluid, allowing for personal interpretations that reflected the abstract experience of playing. I miss that sense of imagination where characters existed beyond the screen.

When I was a kid, the world was still figuring out what video games meant in our society. Films like TRON envisioned worlds within computers, while The Last Starfighter suggested arcade games could be intergalactic tests of skill. I had a vivid imagination, and during tough times at home and school, video games offered me a sense of capability and heroism. I often imagined that my actions on screen had real consequences in another realm.

When you start Shadow Labyrinth, the menu screen shows a figure in a city at night, playing a handheld console. Once you launch the game, that figure disappears, leaving their device behind. The intro, filled with over-the-top anime flair, depicts a human soul being summoned into the player character’s body. It suggests a connection between the player and the character, inviting you to remember that blend of technology and magic that games can evoke.

From there, Shadow Labyrinth continued to surprise me. I expected a modest game with standard Metroidvania elements, but its world expanded beyond my expectations, impressing me with its scale and strangeness. It reminded me of my first experience with Symphony of the Night.

Returning to that Kojima quote, Shadow Labyrinth never felt “pre-digested” for my enjoyment. Its gameplay was solid, but it lacked the overly polished quality many games strive for, and I appreciated that. If I’m transported to another world, I don’t want to be a flawless hero; I want to feel like I’m navigating a strange situation and making the best of it. I never sensed the developers worrying about making the game feel like others that prioritize convenience.

Shadow Labyrinth also didn’t hold my hand, allowing me to discover what to do next or where to find save spots. It felt like a genuine journey of discovery, something that’s rare in modern gaming. I loved stumbling upon references to other Bandai Namco properties, like the moment I encountered enemies from Dig Dug, which made me gasp in delight. I enjoyed figuring out how to defeat a boss that resembled Pac-Man’s infamous killscreen glitch.

I recognize that Shadow Labyrinth was crafted by developers, but I admire it even more for how it feels like a world that exists independently. I never felt their presence, worrying about my frustration or whether the design was “good enough.” The part of my imagination this game reignited likes to think that this is the “true story,” the real world from which games like Pac-Man and Galaga originated, with those arcade classics being echoes of this strange realm.

With Shadow Labyrinth, the developers embraced creativity and risk, breaking free from the constraints of safety and standardization. This game defies the rules of character design and genre, showcasing the wild possibilities that arise when we allow games to transcend conventional boundaries.