What a crazy year it’s been, huh? For me, 2024 was a moment of highs and of lows, of good and of bad news. If I could thank any which helped me get through the slog that is this Earthly revolution, it would have to be my friends. That, and good video games.
2024 was my year of indie discovery, having received the amazing opportunity to go through the endearing classics and the most modern innovative titles. Not everything here was released in 2024, but I wanted to share my set of favorites I played this year, and gush about why I love them!
Pizza Tower (2023)
It is deeply shocking that something as incredibly high quality as Pizza Tower did not win the Best Indie Game award of 2023. Cocoon must be a great game, and I’m looking forward to trying it in the future, but in the meantime, Pizza Tower is my jam.
This little cartoony, high-octane 2D platformer is in equal parts a love letter to the platform games of old, and a bold Mach-4 dash to never before seen greatness. Its esoteric understanding of the genre shines bright, with its razor-sharp controls, damn near flawless game design, and engagingly eccentric visuals, all of which convey one message to the player: go fast. However, Pizza Tower’s fun is not actually in its speed, not entirely. Its fun, surprisingly, lies in the pursuit of meaningful mastery that allows for said speed. Consistency. That’s the first half of the fun.
But this game isn’t all pedal-to-the-metal, guns-blazing. Really, it’s a mix of everything. It’s the way this game so tenderly (yet also unabashedly) juggles between the many modes of platformers: exploration, joy from novelty, careful planning, focused execution, decision-making on a dime, and high tension racing with the clock. These modes so differ and yet are so smoothly interchanged as the player’s inherent goals change. One moment you may want to find all treasures. That takes time and good eyes. Another moment you’re attempting to P-rank a level. That takes routing and good execution. Maybe you make a mistake and bonk on a wall. Now you find yourself snap-decision-making as you try to grab onto the nearest topping before the combo dies. The pace, the tension, and the stakes are all ultimately up to the player’s choosing. Freedom. That’s the second half.
I have plans to write dedicated articles about Pizza Tower’s mechanics and underlying abstract systems. Yes, articles. There’s so much to learn about this years-long passion project from Tour de Pizza, and frankly I, to this day, even as I complete my last few remaining P-ranks, am left stunned, knowing that a game this brazen — this outlandish — is this damn good.
Until Then (2024)
I am generally not the biggest fan of games that a graceful mouth could describe as “interactive stories”, and a blunt tongue as “glorified visual novels.” I play games to play games, and I only frankly tried Until Then for its high production quality, considering it was made in the Philippines. My country, the opposite of a developer haven. I came into Until Then — a glorified visual novel — expecting nothing, and I came out, crying buckets of tears.
Until Then is a breathtakingly profound Filipino coming-of-age story. The highs and the lows of teenage love and life, and the finding of inner peace, even as one survives through family and national turmoil. It holds with it the remnants of Filipino society as it was during the COVID-19 pandemic era, glazed over by hints of Pinoy culture and its concurrent political landscape. All of this, expertly conveyed through gorgeous pixel/3D art and moving musical motifs.
I’m so, so glad Until Then exists. It is a genuine heartfelt narrative that will surely inspire many Filipino creators to share their stories in a relatively uncharted medium. I mean, it’s already inspired me. I myself am looking to engage with more media of this nature. Maybe one day, we’ll be able to create something that surpasses Polychroma’s magnum opus. But, until then, we shall let breathe a timeless Filipino classic.
Stardew Valley (2016)
There are only 730 hours in a month. About 550 if you discount the time spent asleep. I played Stardew Valley for a month. And I’ve somehow played it for 120.
There were real periods of time where I came home from school and did nothing but play this game. It was a procrastinator’s bliss. Still, though, I can’t help feeling a little impressed by how well Stardew Valley gaslit all of its players, because I installed it thinking it was a cozy game. Stardew Valley is not a cozy game. It is a game made in the deepest pits of Hell, from the woodworks of Satan’s soldiers themselves.
For somebody who doesn’t like doing, Stardew Valley is as stressful as anything can get. The game is all about doing. Every action, every choice, stems from the player’s inherent desires, whether it be their want to improve relationships or their need to help out the town. Its in-game quests are but mere guidelines. The real progress is rooted from within.
But, to achieve those personal goals, Stardew Valley requires the player to know what they want to accomplish with their limited day-to-day time. This may entail scheduling actions depending on the day and weather, and planning for the elusive pictures on the in-game calendar. Without this, players find themselves walking around aimlessly, like headless versions of the game’s iconic pixel chicken. It is unsurprising that in a game all about doing, the hardest part is knowing what to do.
In effect, Stardew Valley embodies the two halves of fun akin to Pizza Tower, but its enjoyability manifests in vastly different ways. Stardew presents players with the freedom of option, and, to achieve maximum gains, requires them to be consistently efficient. Funnily enough, the only time I felt “cozy” while playing Stardew Valley was when I stopped. It was those times, raining, when I need not water my crops, or feed my animals, or mine rocks. I could walk around, go in people’s homes, see the valley. The cozy part is when you’ve done it all, satisfied, finally taking a break, admiring the game’s outstanding world, characters, art, and narrative. When progress is rooted from within, stopping and taking a break is doing too.
Stardew Valley is a real triumph in the indie gaming scene. Its expansive world and delightfully deep characters set the stage for other “cozy” farming simulators to follow suit. But not many were able to achieve what Stardew Valley did: remind people the simple beauty in doing.
Katana ZERO (2019)
What an exceptional masterpiece. Katana ZERO’s silky smooth swordplay and stunning visuals almost make me forget its harsh, downtrodden reality. The cityscapes of New Mecca gasp in its dark purple lighting that bleeds into its air, as the harbinger of death himself stands next to a young girl on a rooftop. For Zero’s entire life he has served under the military as their little pet project to test a time-shifting drug. It works. Zero’s entire purpose had been to destroy whatever needed to be destroyed, but it is in this rooftop scene above that he realizes there’s something more important at play. What he considered good and bad then had been shifted by the naive youth to whom he’s grown attached, and in a final moment of rebellious understanding, he throws away the war medal he’s worn for seven years, knowing now his real evidence of heroism lies in the humanity he serves.
It’s so… serene. Liberating. Not at all similar to the rest of the game; bloody, oppressive, violent. On the rooftop, though, the environment feels freeing. Katana ZERO has hours of other content, mind you, but this rooftop scene was when I realized I was looking at something undoubtedly special.
“I haven’t taken off [that medal] in seven years. It reminds me that no matter what I’m doing, I did something good once.”
“What?! Why did you throw it away?”
“…I have other reminders now.”
Hylics (2015)
If Stardew Valley and Katana ZERO have realistic, earth-like worlds, Hylics would probably be their polar opposite. Hylics is weird, alien almost. Mason Lindroth’s striking claymation style and indecipherable word salad prose takes center stage in shaping Hylics as a wondrous but bizarre RPG experience.
I particularly love the constant juxtaposition between the normal and the unnormal throughout the entire narrative. Putting meat and water cups in the same collectible-level importance as battle axes and primordial crystals just has that funny yet familiar feel to it. Truthfully, that’s all of Hylics to me. Funny, yet familiar.
The game’s title is worth examining too. “Hylics” in Gnosticism essentially refers to the lowest division of man — those with no spirit, only material. One reading of Hylics is an examination of its creature hierarchy, resembling a ladder similar to that of the Gnostic divisions of man. Gibby is pneumatic; therefore, one could see his defeat as a shift in power — a shift in hierarchy. Likewise, one could see the game’s title as a comment on its meta-value. Hylics is, after all, a “recreational program.” Perhaps the game itself, along with its nonsense dialogue strings, is hylic in and of itself: a material pursuit of meaninglessness.
The best part is that the game is so open-ended any of these could be true, and all of them could be false. That’s the beauty of abstract art. Even though Hylics is by no means an impressive RPG in terms of combat system or gameplay, the fact of the matter is that it is terrifically enchanting, even for its artistic merits alone.
Balatro (2024)
PSA: DO NOT PLAY BALATRO. I REPEAT. DO NOT PLAY BALATRO. YOU WILL DEVELOP SEVERE BALATRO ADDICTION. DOWNLOAD WITH CAUTION.
Jokes aside, Balatro’s a universally beloved game, for good reason. It knocks other deck-builder/roguelite fusions out of the park with its hypnotizing audiovisuals and cripplingly addicting play mechanics. Much like Hylics, Balatro is weird. I’ve seen it described as “Poker on crack.” I honestly cannot think of a better description.
The weirdest part for me perhaps was that I was not affected by the Balatro Addiction Syndrome (BAS) that I see afflict others too often. I only have 30 or so hours in this game, unlike plenty other players. I think it was a mixture of the game lacking an analogue world and its heavy reliance on luck in winning that did not capture me as much as it did others. Still, just because I was not addicted to Balatro does not imply a lack of enjoyment. Damn well I enjoyed it! Its progression system is absurdly similar to that of Risk of Rain 2’s Eclipse. Its main gameplay loop is fresh, full of synergies, and oozing with flair. Getting the fire effect when you beat a blind in a single hand may be the most satisfying effect in gaming yet. And you think I wouldn’t like Balatro?
Really proud that this was nominated for Game of the Year. A truly well-deserved nomination for an outstanding drug. I mean game.
Mouthwashing (2024)
Speaking of, uh, drugs… damn, how do I segue into Mouthwashing?
This story — not game, like Until Then, but story — is unforgiving. It is not coming-of-age, and it is, if anything, coming-of-death.
What would you do if you were stuck in a doomed space freighter, abandoned by the company which sent you? Mouthwashing is a story about the escape from, and the washing away of, regret. To act as if nothing had happened. To appeal to your self-interests. To pretend. It is horrific and vile and difficult, but not because it’s a difficult game. It’s a difficult story to ingest, because it is a story with no justice. Besides, what can justice do when the pony’s dead?
Much can be said about Mouthwashing and its themes and narrative devices, but perhaps my favorite part about it is its strong symbolism, carried by its visual style and creative direction. The moments where you fall into a pool of blood and see ladders spring up, or when you crawl through vents in avoidance of a worm representing an unborn child. The ladders, the vents, even the titular mouthwash, all represent the will to escape, a will that never manifests.
A most heartbreaking story told excellently. Mouthwashing is something I will never, ever forget.
caged bird don’t fly / caught in a wire / sing like a good canary / come when called (2019)
This game is 5 minutes long. Yet it was probably one of the most impactful 5 minutes throughout my 2024. I’ll let my review of the game speak for itself:
“I don’t know if this is the intended message of this game, but I’d like to interpret that this is meant to depict society’s expectations towards those who go “outside” of the norm. Those perceived as too different for “their” liking. To free yourself, and to express the way you want to express, is to possibly (and for many, inevitably) entrap yourself in a larger cage: a cage set by society. Because, for many, you and your identity is something that “they” own. To them, you’re a caged bird, who can’t fly, sings like a good canary, and comes when called. And as a queer person who’s deathly afraid of coming out, this game f*cking hit me in the feels.”
This game won’t mean the same thing to everyone else as it did to me, which makes it the oddest inclusion yet. It’s one of those artsy projects that is evidently meaningless to many, but that I looked too hard into and found so much value out of seeming nothingness. But this, to me, just seems so personal. Like a message to oneself, a cipher, that perhaps only the creator could decipher, but that I’ve decided to encode my own meaning into anyway. Caged bird means so much to me and how I cope with my identity. But it will likely be meaningless to many.
And that’s okay. That honestly just makes it all the more beautiful to me.
Final Words
Every game I listed here, I love for vastly different reasons. I love Pizza Tower and Balatro because they’re rock-ass games that are highly addicting and fun to play, Pizza Tower especially to master. Until Then and Mouthwashing are narratives that heal or hurt your heart. Or both. Hylics and caged bird are one-of-a-kind, out-of-this-world experiences, caged bird having a heartfelt meaning for me, personally, while Katana ZERO is really a mix of everything.
But believe you me, choosing these particular games was not easy. The competition was fierce, and I loved many other titles other than these, to the point I could honestly write a second article altogether. I am forever indebted to the amount of quality I’ve experienced this year alone, and I’m also somewhat afraid I won’t be able to appreciate each and all of them.
In my very first article, I defined a “favorite” as something one deeply loves. These are indie games I very deeply love. I defined “indie games” as being independent from outside control, and their freedom inspires me to reach for freedom of my own, in my own ways. That’s what I’m doing right now. I am so grateful to the fact that I can be here on this Earth for another year. That’s 365 more days to love. 365 more days to play.
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