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Mass Effect, the universe where you can shag aliens, warp through space and an armada of calamari threaten organic existence, but they can’t fix a pilot’s legs. With the trilogy in its final hours, Mass Effect 3 might not wet the pants of unfamiliar newcomers to the point they need a fresh pair, but invested fans will find a lot to soil over by the time the curtains fall.

Key to that investment is how intimate the series has become. From the original game through to Mass Effect 3, choice and consequence have been integral to what plays out on screen. What’s more incredible is how all of that matters now.

It’s significant in different ways, in all manner of sizes. Who died here? Who did you kill there? Where did you send this person? Did you bed that worn-out looking gaming celebrity? All kinds of seemingly unimportant details will come back to surprise, haunt and relieve you; depending on what path you chose to follow.

Importing a save into Mass Effect 3 is a necessity to experience and understand the true stakes at hand, as well as to enjoy the game as it should be enjoyed. Playing it without experiencing the first two games would be to disservice everything that Bioware has created up to this point.

And what a point they’ve made. We won’t say anything about the plot, even though the idea of hyperbole overload annoys us, dancing around spoilers in fear of ruining it. More importantly, your experience could differ dramatically to ours, which is why it’s okay to tell you that ******** dies. Joking.

Death, destruction and sacrifice are all part of Mass Effect 3, though; if it doesn’t pull a heartstring then you’re clearly some kind of cyborg Husk. It might occasionally feel like you’re on a conveyer belt of old faces, as various companions show up to say their piece, but the game would be nothing without the personas you’ve grown to love or hate. A small number of the new folks, I’m looking at you James — a middle of the road, tattoo wielding bore comparable to Mass Effect 2’s Jacob — are less engaging, but they do a great job of branching out from the familiar cast.

As the main cast branches out, so does the scope; Mass Effect 3’s vision is huge. No longer do your decisions affect only those around you, instead widening the focus onto world-changing scenarios. Bigger set pieces flesh out the action to enforce the galactic threat that you’re up against, as well as offsetting the chummy quiet moments between your pals.

The best bit is how the line between right and wrong is blurred. The Reaper invasion is a nudge to make brutal decisions that you wouldn’t otherwise risk. Bioware isn’t scared to make you hate yourself for your choices either, and we were tearing our hair out on dozens of occasions. For better or worse, everything is soon to end, but you might feel like you could’ve been a more angelic – or a less merciful - Shepard. All the more reason to play again, we reckon.

For the most part, Mass Effect 3 remains relatively unchanged from its predecessor. There are six classes, each one differing between standard gunplay and the more sci-fi biotic powers. All six options feature a varying balance of both skills, so you’ll never feel limited in your choice despite getting a distinct play style. Also, selecting an imported save does give you the option to reselect your class, which we appreciated, having made a shoddy decision 5 years ago.

You’ll level up each character in your squad separately, increasing skills and powers while simultaneously growing stronger as a team. A new balancing system has been introduced to level the playing field between a shotgun-loving soldier and a warp-obsessed biotic, which serves to help multiplayer just as much as single player. Carrying more weapons results in a longer cooldown period for your blue powers, so make sure you find your optimum. It’ll take a while to figure out exactly which way you want to play, but you’ll be kicking Reaper ass once you do.

The weapons themselves vary hugely, from low powered sub-machineguns to super blow-your-face-off shotguns. Better yet, everything packs a punch; none of that shoddy gunplay seen in Mass Effect 1, where firing a gun gave the same recoil you’d expect from whacking off a marshmallow flump. Upgrades and customisation take centre stage, too. Nothing is more satisfying than attaching a power upgrade to your already unstoppable sniper rifle.

Easy as it is to get all superlative, Mass Effect 3 still has its niggles. The cover system has been improved, but it’s still far from best in class. Too often does Shepard decide he wants to dive around on the floor rather than get in cover; a necessity when you’re being shot at with big heavy guns. Also, why remove the option to control the camera while sprinting? We get the emphasis on tactics — don’t worry, team management is still as fluid and simple as ever — and we know this isn’t a high-speed shooter, but at least let us see where we’re going when we want to travel faster than 0-mph.

Then there’s multiplayer, which we absolutely loved. It works like Gears of War’s horde – a wave based mode that teams you with up to three mates - albeit with less polish. The simple design might not offer the online hours you’d get from your precious yearly CoD release, but playing with friends is a co-operative blast and there’s more content underneath the bonnet than first appears.

At the end of it, just remember; you did this. Your decisions decided the fate of an entire galaxy. Billions of people owe you a thank you (or a punch). Naysayers won’t be converted and newcomers won’t get the same narrative impact, but that’s their fault for jumping on the bandwagon so late. Mass Effect 3 is all about you, the dedicated commander who’s hankering to complete the final third of their mission. Bioware absolutely succeed in that, handing you the most incredible finale you’ll encounter for at least another 50,000 years.

95/100

Whether you loved it, hated it or simply weren’t bothered by its glossy shimmer, Final Fantasy XIII was essentially a flamboyant corridor with a room at the end of it. Granted, the room at the end wasn’t half bad, but the seemingly endless slog that preceded it undoubtedly soured the final hours. By then, many had become bored of point-to-point mechanics and Japanese hyperbole.

With XIII-2, Square Enix has done a questionable thing by continuing the story of its predecessor. The god-awful supporting cast à la XIII are mostly absent, but the continuation of the arc and the similarities in presentation are still enough to secrete that disappointing taste onto your tongue buds.  

This is a shame because XIII-2 corrects some of XIII’s biggest issues. Strict, relentless linearity has been left behind in favour of a far more open structure, even though the world lacks connectivity. With freedom and exploration comes more to do, but these additional activities feel like they’re included to tick a box, to please the people that XIII should’ve won over first time around.

You play as Serah, the younger sister of XIII’s lead emo guts, Lightning. Lightning has appeared in Valhalla, an area outside of discernible time. It’s there that she encounters Caius, a hair-dye-obsessed bad guy hell-bent on continuing her sulk. Amidst the endless chaos, she also encounters the time-travelling Noel, who she tasks with travelling back through the void to find Serah and bring her to Valhalla. Simply put, Noel is like Arnie in Terminator 2 and he’s going to stop at nothing to finish his mission.

It sounds complex but XIII-2 is bogged down by labyrinthine storytelling that fails to mask the simplicity of its tale. The objective of ‘find and save Lightning’ is enough to keep you progressing, but with little expansion or evolution upon this - let alone the absence of a satisfying finale - XIII-2 feels disparate from the deep, interwoven yarns that series veterans have rightfully come to expect. This is a game that says nine words when three would’ve sufficed.

Captivation is not the cast’s strong point, either. Serah is not the abysmal fairy that Vanille was, but she lacks the personality to be a memorable leading lady. Noel is similar, retaining likeability but missing any trace of greatness. Without other dominant protagonists you’ll find very little else to concentrate on. The heavier focus on just two characters was a chance to increase personal bonds, but the good-not-great leads are impossible to connect with.

Connecting to the world is something you may find problematic, also. It’s beautiful, basking in stunning artistic variety, but the disjointed form created by the Historia Crux – your central time travelling hub – removes any sense of true exploration. It feels like you’re just witnessing various points in time, rather than inhabiting a world. Side quests, optional activities and the earned ability to revisit various points in time are all enough to keep you busy for well over 40 hours, but the magic of discovery is something that’s left to small, arena-like worlds rather than a sprawling metropolis of wondrous existences. Disappointing, especially considering the endless opportunities that time travel provided.

While the open structure improves but doesn’t fully resolve problems, combat still remains strong. The segmented action gauge returns, while paradigms and other complex options have been tweaked to speed up the action. Taking control of only two humans allows you to really focus on your load outs, experiment with tactics and perfect your approach without dealing with upwards of five party members. Tamable monsters add a new level of depth too, successfully lighting a fire in the heart of collectors and completionists everywhere. These critters serve as the third addition to your combat party and can be customised and upgraded like the two main heroes.

Other additions like conversation wheels and QTEs attempt to push the presentation into a more player-influenced territory, but the result is contrived. Annoying on-screen indicators are pointless, and it’s almost as if Square are shouting out that they’ve made changes for us to admire and applaud.

For all their efforts, there’s no doubting that XIII-2 is a better game than its better-forgotten father, but improving on such a huge disappointment isn’t a glorious triumph. XIII-2 feels like it’s treading over covered ground. It improves some issues and fully resolves others, but still has its fair share of troublesome flaws. It’s archaic and unapproachable, lacking narrative pull when it should swim in it. As a game it’s more than commendable, but the Final Fantasy staple demands more than a strong combat system and fancy visuals. Depth of story, pace and the intricacy of character relationships are the foundations that Final Fantasy is built upon. Sadly, much like its father, XIII-2 feels like it’s ready to subside.

6/10

So a few people wrote some pretty silly things on Twitter yesterday regarding the apparently impending doom of GAME and Gamestation, spurring an MCV piece (http://www.mcvuk.com/news/read/opinion-really-you-don-t-want-game-to-fail/089526) on why you seriously don’t want Game to fail and disappear from the high street.

While I completely disagree with those wishing ill on individuals who could potentially lose their jobs and end up with the couple of million others stuck in a rut as the economy slowly declines, I do think we can take a little bit of something else from this; you should want Game to fail, kind of.

This isn’t me trolling, but it is something to consider.

So you walk into your local Game store. You’re met with deals here, there and everywhere, kids hunting for their latest Skylander model – I have a younger brother, I’ve been there – and pre-order cases lined out for the year ahead. COD COD COD COD.

My problem comes when you exchange your money. Sure, you’re open to vote where you place your wallet, but shouldn’t any vote result in a decent service and the best outcome for you?

That’s not to mention the fact that, yes, you can find games cheaper elsewhere. Being disgruntled because you can save money somewhere else isn’t a sign of ignorance or immaturity; it’s just standard process of thought that most people abide by.

Near me there’s Game, Gamestation and a CEX all within a mile of each other. Why would I choose to go to Game to pick up a preowned copy of Bayonetta for £10 when I can get the same quality product with a likely better experience at CEX for £4? Sure I’ll go into each one to price compare and do a little scout, but I’d eat my own head if Game ever came out cheapest.

That isn’t my immaturity speaking, that’s my logical money-saving approach. Isn’t it?

Again, why would I place repeat pre-orders with Game after my first took over three weeks (post release) to reach me? The order was then fumbled and I had to wait a total of 28 working days before I could’ve reported the order as late to request a refund.

My only eventual compensation: a promise of £10 in loyalty points that were never sent through to my account. Deux fail.

And what was the first thought I had? I decided to never pre-order with Game again and now do all my pre-orders through Amazon. Disgusting? Or logical best-for-my-money thinking?

Now, experiences like this happen everywhere, but it’s the “pay more and still receive lukewarm service” mantra that has almost completely alienated me from the Game bubble.

Competition is what keeps retailers working for you. Look at LoveFilm and NetFlix fighting it out for streaming dominance in the UK, what better time to be a film lover. 

To survive, Game need to look at what others are doing and get their act together. It’s no surprise they’re struggling when anybody in the know is aware that they can pick up games half the price elsewhere. For those completely unaware of price comparison, you only need look at Game’s own website to see the difference compared to their own store.

So yes, it’s wrong to wish people out of a job, because the ones you speak to in store have no higher power. But no you don’t need to grow up because you disagree with the company’s pricing or the way they treat you as a consumer. You have a family to support too, and you have a wallet that needs to be looked after just like the guy behind the counter.

For me, if I knew that I was getting real rewards for stepping under that big purple sign, for sure I’d do it.

If I thought that Game knew what I wanted as a hardcore gamer, sure I’d step right in and buy as many copies of El Shaddai as I could get my hands on.

If there were some sort of correlation between prices where I didn’t feel RIP OFF was staring me back in the face, I’d go back to being a regular shopper.

People don’t just go elsewhere, so look at what we want Game. We know you could be brilliant, but you’ve really lost your way. We don’t want you to fail, but we do want you to realise we know we can do better, and we will if it means saving a couple of quid and getting an order on time.

For me - or rather the High Elf equivalent of me, Vixen Bass-Clef - Bethesda’s latest gem is special. It’s the game that I’ve played for 160 joy-filled hours. That’s more time spent on one game than every other game I’ve reviewed this year, combined.

And yet, despite still having tonnes more to do, see and accomplish, the looming doom of ‘completion’ is ever apparent. It’s not the kind of game that lets you loose lightly, it drills its icy tendrils deep into the very heart of what defines exploration and discovery. It’s also not a game that tells you when you’re done, leaving you wondering whether it has anymore to offer, consequently making the departure that little bit more difficult.

That said, I’m pretty confident that even if I stopped playing now, I’ve left my own Vixen shaped imprint on the snowy hillside. I saved the College of Winterhold from almost certain destruction and married a strong Nord wife.  She supplies me with a useless supply of gold, but I pretend to love her anyway.

I became a werewolf and went on a brief feral rampage. That was before realising shopkeepers didn’t respawn, leaving me feeling incredibly guilty and never returning, in case I ran into one of my victim’s relatives. Due to my terrible actions I usually sit around my palatial mansion, getting fat by eating my home made stews, wondering what I should do with the tonne of priceless armour I’ve created with my smith-handy mitts. 

That unique persona is what makes the prospect of leaving so hard. Where a game like Uncharted 3 tells a gorgeous interactive tale, or an epic like Final Fantasy weaves a phenomenal narrative through hours of thematic beauty, Skyrim does things differently. You choose the pace. You set the compass. What you’ve done and whom you’ve affected are all recorded down in the fictional history books for whatever this world has become in 200 years, glitches and all. It’s not just ‘open world’ in the throwaway definition of the term, it’s pure freedom to have a second life.

In this life, there’s no constant strive for the emotional grasp that Mass Effect or even Fable achieves, but by giving you your own playground the game subconsciously creates real care about what happens there. I had never spoken to the merchants I brutally murdered under the full moon’s light but I felt awful all the same. I regretted that decision the moment I swung those final bloody blows, especially once I realised that the autosave had overwritten itself and there was no turning back.

It also manages to create the most social experience despite being, by design, incredibly anti social. There hasn’t been a game in recent memory that has aroused the same amount of talk across social networks or Xbox Live. It’s not just a personal adventure for you as an individual, but an escapade for all your friends to experience separately but simultaneously, swapping stories about when you first ventured to the Throat of the World, or your first encounter with a Daedric prince. Even my girlfriend – my real one – has succumbed to the hype, only to realise why I’ve been accidentally calling her ‘housecarl’ for the last month…

Amongst the strengths the most saddening thing is that, while restarting as Vixen Bass-Clef Jr will give me a wonderful second dose, it will always feel like an incomparable recreation of the story that I wrote first time around. That first glimpse of the land in which I was a complete stranger lost in the misty hills without a clue where to go. Every decision I made then was made on the back of my own curiosity, relying on the deep-rooted need to turn a little icon on my in-game compass from black to white.

That ‘honeymoon period’ will never be repeated. Curiosity is exchanged with expectation, magical disbelief with a steady flow of not-so-stunning discoveries that I knew were coming. Such is the same with any game, but with Skyrim it’s a horrible fact I haven’t yet accepted as I still tiptoe around a main quest I wish I never had to finish. 

You won’t find a prettier, prouder platformer than Rayman Origins. It’s a pure 2D sidescroller, set in graceful motion when Rayman and his obnoxiously loud mates make too much noise, disturbing an evil underground hag who consequently invades the gorgeous surface with her dastardly minions. The story isn’t important; it’s just a set up. What’s vital is that you have eyes and love dashing from left to right through exquisite locales that wouldn’t look out of place in a watercolour flip book masterpiece.

You’ll navigate from The Snoring Tree, the aptly named central hub for your snooze crew to access the surroundings. The regions range from luscious forests overflowing with colour, kitchens overrun with fire-breathing chefs and underwater caverns lit only by the glowy aquatic inhabitants. The stunning variation will keep you captivated from start to finish, while a rock solid frame rate ensures your experience is never interrupted by shoddy technical faults.

More importantly, the controls are flawless, leaving you free to enjoy the quick fire fluidity of the action instead of fumbling with your greasy fingers and a cumbersome control scheme. It feels immaculate and you’ll quickly settle into a smooth platforming rhythm, bolting through each level at speed, nimbly dodging danger and amassing points by collecting yellow ‘Lums’. Reaching certain quantities in your collecting frenzy will unlock pink dudes called ‘Electoons’ which unlock special stages and contribute towards the gleaming gold medallions that signify a level has been fully completed. These treasures aren’t necessary to progress through the world, but the option to return and replay in order to better your score is a welcome time-sink.

You wont be fighting against controller, but you will come across a variety of absurd foes to jump on and punch in the face. Overweight birds fly aimlessly around the screen just begging to be squashed, stick-wielding old crones wander the walkways and goggly-eyed puffer fish lay in waiting to impale you on an inflated sea of spines. Each worldly region holds its own unique enemies and environmental hazards to hinder your success, with different musical tunes for any given situation. Even collecting points in quick succession initiates a sprightly jingle to let you know how well you’re doing, while chase sequences are suitably upbeat to spur you on towards the finish line.

Most of the action takes place on foot, however a few levels pair you up with a ride-on mosquito akin to an insect fighter jet that fires bullets and inhales enemies. These aerobatic sections punctuate the end of each group of levels, leading on to larger encounters with a final boss once you’ve navigated your way through narrow passages on the back of your blood-sucking companion.

Whether you play in brief periods or complete entire regions in one sitting, the pacing is perfect and the challenge expertly judged. The bite size levels never feel frustrating or poorly structured. If you die it’s only ever because you made a stupid mistake, and you’re never so far from a checkpoint that redoing a section feels like a slog. If you continue to die numerous times, the game recognises your distress and provides the option to skip past that particular portion, should you be so inclined.

You can also play with up to three others but you’ll need to be in the same room to do so (insert VGA-esque joke about gamers being antisocial here). You’ll also need to get used to the frantic mayhem of having four real-life characters on the screen at once; the more players you’ve got, the more difficult it becomes to keep track of what’s going on when fists are flying and the colours are exploding. It’s by no means unplayable, but it highlights the unfortunate omission of online play.

By far the game’s biggest failing is its release window. It will likely fade into the ether, sat alone in the dark shadow of obscurity cast by its record-breaking blockbuster colleagues. Forget about those, though. Rayman won’t let you down. In fact, he’ll sweep you off your feet, pulling you into a world so colourful that you’ll come away with an immeasurable grin plastered across your little face. It’ll leave a bright Lum-induced imprint on your mind, reminding you how stunning even the simplest of concepts can be; how even a goofy 15-year old franchise protagonist with no arms or legs can impress beyond expectations. Put your shiny gold medallions to good use and go buy it.

9/10