Screenshot: Golf 5 Max I think I’m a secret golf video game enthusiast. It’s not something you can go around and announce to people in regular, polite conversation. Trust me. Even trying to explain to other gamers my love of, say, Neo Turf Masters gets blank stares and polite nods. It’s too bad, because there are some great golf games out there. I used to think they were just for dads, but now that I’m dad age I can tell you: they probably are. And while I was excited for Golf 5 Max, I actually ended up being a little disappointed. Golf 5 Max is a golf game that mixes modern and retro. It obviously takes a lot of inspiration from Neo Turf Masters—one of my favorite arcade golf games. It has a similar three-click swing style—you click once to start the swing, then there’s a second timed click to set your English, and a third to nail your power (which affects your accuracy)—but it uses a realistic simulator to drive the physics. It’s even billed as “arcade meets real physics” on its Steam store page. Screenshot: Golf 5 Max It has a roster of characters with RPG-style progression, a few game modes and seven courses to play on. The best thing about Golf 5 Max is that it’s actually fun to play. I’m a sucker for this particular style of arcade golf, while it might seem unusual for other golf video game enjoyers. The physics engine feels tough, but fair. While you have the ability to aim the ball, it’s down to click accuracy and timing to get the best (and most intended) shot. But failing a shot feels like it has a natural outcome—a ball sliced too far off course into a hazard, for example. But despite its claims of “real physics” don’t expect a hyper realistic, hyper simulated style of game. I can’t even say that it bridges the gap between the two—Golf 5 Max falls solidly into the “arcade” category. There is so much room for mastery that I haven’t even come close to the skill ceiling in my hours I sunk into it. And I effortlessly put hours into Golf 5 Max. Screenshot: Golf 5 Max There are a few things I have issues with though. First of all, I appreciate what developers LENYA DIGITAL and AAA Game Studios were trying to do with the character roster. There is certainly a diverse cast of characters, just like Neo Turf Masters. Unlike the retro game, Golf 5 Max’s characters have stats that you can level up: Power to hit further, Technique to master your spin, Consistency to stay in control, Accuracy to sharpen your aim, and Recovery to escape tricky situations. It will just take you a long time to grind through them. The character models themselves are also hideous. I can tell that there was a certain '70s retro style that Golf 5 Max was trying to capture, but it just never really translates as well as it could. Screenshot: Golf 5 Max There is also limited course variety. Seven courses might sound like a lot—and while they all look good with their own distinct visual style, the courses themselves have little variation. I’m trying to recall specific features from the different courses and beyond a few exceptions, it’s hard for me to tell. There are a few exceptional and fun holes, sure. But courses by and large are mundane. I do appreciate that some courses use vertical height generously. And hazards are well placed, most of the time. There are several game modes, though most are just slight variations on the “classic” mode. Birdie or Bust is a coin-op arcade way to play. Par allows you to continue without losing a credit, bogey loses you a credit and birdies net you extra play time—exactly as the Neo Turf Masters coin-op arcade would work. There’s also a time attack mode that requires you to stay within par or better to get bonus play time. There are online lobbies, which I didn’t get to test in this pre-release window, as well as a tournament mode that pits you against other players online with a leaderboard. Screenshot: Golf 5 Max Ultimately, Golf 5 Max is a great game with some frustrating compromises. The mechanics are rock-solid, and when you get into that rhythm of perfectly timing a three-click swing to land a brilliant approach shot, it nails the classic arcade feel I was hoping for. I wish it had more course variety, and while I’d love to see more in an update I’m afraid that might be a DLC thing. Despite ugly character models, and a grind to increase character stats, Golf 5 Max is a delight for retro and modern arcade golf fans. Just be prepared to accept that while the swing is pure arcade perfection, the rest of the package lands squarely in the rough.

Sir Patrick Stewart is dead. He was so many things, including (arguably) the best Star Trek Captain. And while I might have a different preference there, I do have to admit that Stewart’s portrayal of Captain Picard had a huge impact on my life. He was my space dad—imparting wisdom on a young me as I watched episodes of The Next Generation—sometimes as they aired originally, sometimes in reruns. To celebrate the life of Sir Patrick Stewart and the Captain that inspired so many, I wanted to share some of my favorite quotes of Picard’s—elevated by the gravitas of such a great actor. On Failure "It is possible to commit no mistakes and still lose. That is not a weakness. That is life." — TNG: "Peak Performance" On Injustice "With the first link, the chain is forged. The first speech censured, the first thought forbidden, the first freedom denied, chains us all irrevocably." — TNG: "The Drumhead" On Mortality "Someone once told me that time was a predator that stalked us all our lives. I rather believe that time is a companion who goes with us on the journey and reminds us to cherish every moment because it will never come again." — Star Trek Generations On Absolutes "There can be no justice so long as laws are absolute. Even life itself is an exercise in exceptions." — TNG: "Justice" On Living "Seize the time... Live now! Make now always the most precious time. Now will never come again." — TNG: "The Inner Light" On The Impossible "Things are only impossible until they're not." — TNG: "The Child"

via Paramount+ When I was little, I used to “watch” Star Trek: The Next Generation with my mom. And when I say watch, I mean it the way a little kid watches TV: in about five to ten minute chunks when things got interesting or someone was doing something unusual. I wouldn’t say I loved Star Trek the way I do now back then - I think I mostly tolerated it to “was mildly amused” by it from time to time. But I do remember that I wanted Jean Luc Picard to marry my mom. (Remember, I was little.) My mom was widowed, and as a single mom, had to do all the career woman things while she also did the mom things. And she did, brilliantly. Even when we didn’t have a lot, it felt like enough. But I always wanted her to marry someone cool who could help her. And I guess, for context, I saw a lot of my mom in Beverly Crusher. She was someone who’d lost a lot and had a lot on her plate, but was super capable, organized and important on the Enterprise. She was strict but fun, and, I even saw a lot of myself in Wesley Crusher. Jean Luc Picard, in my mind, was the perfect match for my mom because of how calm, smart, and refined he was. At the time I didn’t necessarily have the words for it. But he was decisive, and passionate, and seemed unafraid. He was someone to look up to. And someone who could confidently lead a starship and a little family all at once. Little flickers of TNG stayed with me until I really dove into TNG and the rest of Star Trek with my husband. Now, I could tell you minute details of every series in the franchise, and our entire living room is festooned with Trek memorabilia. We even have a horga’hn. Photograph via The Today Show. I guess I didn’t know too much about Patrick Stewart then, but I do now. I think I first came to admire his gravitas, and his Shakespearean knowledge. I thought it befit a captain of a starship to be played by someone who took things very, very seriously. And then I saw some blooper reels. Patrick Stewart wearing an impish grin, laughing at Frakes when he messed up his lines. Yelling “SHIT!” when he forgot his own, and laughing beside Gates McFadden. Scolding Michael Dorn for not moving on cue. I saw his performances in episodes like Inner Light, Darmok, and Measure of a Man, where he eloquently argued for Data to have human rights. Fiery passion, with grace and honor. And then I saw him talk about domestic violence. I saw him speak up for survivors, and talk about his struggles with his relationship with his father, and the then nameless disease he came back from the war with that takes so many lives and rips apart so many families - PTSD. I saw him advocate for mental health. I watched him live out allyship in his relationships. Fight for pit bulls and love on them himself, with his own named Number One even starring in Picard. via Paramount+ I saw the weight of his friendships with the cast, that brought them back for that wonderful final season of Picard, where we got to finally see our old friends again, back at the poker table, and back at the bar having some drinks having survived yet another life or death adventure, one last time. During the pandemic, I listened to that commanding yet gentle voice read a daily sonnet to quiet the fear clutching at the back of all our throats in lockdown. I listened to his audiobook when it came out, and saw his vulnerability as he admitted his past mistakes and what he’d learned from them. I saw him dress like a lobster and pal around with Ian McKellen. And while I’ve attended more than a few Star Trek conventions at this point (and conventions where tons of Trek stars have appeared) if I have one regret it’s that I didn’t get to meet the man in person. To thank him, for being so many things in his lifetime to look up to. Even if he never did marry my mom. Via @sirpatstew on X. RIP. “Seize the time. Live now. Make now always the most precious time. Now will never come again.” - Jean Luc Picard. “Inner Light”

Horror isn’t just a genre; it’s an amalgamation of pop culture, cozy traditions, and things that go bump in the night. This year, we're taking our 31 Days of Horror across the entire cultural spectrum. We’ll be taking a look at movies that scare us, games that kept us paranoid, scary books we cozy up with under blankets, music that sets that spooky tone and seasonal food we’re craving–or strange food you’d have to tie us up and force feed us. Whether you’re looking for something truly terrifying or a cozy autumn haunt, come back every day this month for a new bite-sized review or spooky adjacent list. Horror and Halloween aren’t entirely about just scaring yourself silly. They’re a tapestry of emotions carefully seeded across a landscape of the dark and macabre. Thirty-two years ago, despite the tragic death of Brandon Lee on set during filming, The Crow hit theaters. It’s dark and it’s bleak, but it’s also sleek film noir that to this day, feels like putting on a well-worn but well-kept leather jacket. It’s a graphic novel come to life on the big screen that tells a familiar and haunting story of love, loss, revenge, and ultimately, resting in peace. Rock star Eric Draven (Brandon Lee) is brutally murdered along with his wife Shelly Webster (Sofia Shinas) by a gang of thugs at the behest of crime boss Top Dollar (Michael Wincott) for attempting to stop evictions in their apartment building. A year later, Draven is resurrected by a crow and hunts the perpetrators of his and his fiancée’s murderers to avenge their deaths. All of this takes place in an exaggerated, near apocalyptic looking version of Detroit on Devil’s Night. In addition to intense, high-octane action sequences, we see the landscape of a very gothed out version of the city twisting and turning ostensibly through the eyes of a crow. At the time, most big action movies and thrillers had a very similar feel to them. Two of the biggest blockbusters of 1994 were True Lies and Speed. The Crow turned what felt like a very long standard on its head. Maybe it’s because I was a very young teenager just barely getting my feet wet in goth, punk, and metal subculture, but it was something I could connect with in a much deeper way than most other movies at the time. The movie was released with a soundtrack that’s truly epic and still serves as a wonderful time capsule that highlights some of the best metal, goth, and alternative music that was coming out in the early 90s. Eric Draven is out for justice and looking to put right an incredible tragic wrong inflicted on him and a person he loved, but he’s an emotional wreck and roller coaster while on the journey. He’s got superhuman powers – albeit limited to the beating hearts of the villains he wants to dispatch – but he’s not a superhero, and he’s often borderline psychotic. Brandon Lee played this part spectacularly, and there are quite a few scenes that have stuck with me more than three decades later. It’s a heartbreaking story set against a backdrop of a heartbreaking tragedy and thirty two years later, still stands up as one of the best movies of its era.

Horror isn’t just a genre; it’s an amalgamation of pop culture, cozy traditions, and things that go bump in the night. This year, we're taking our 31 Days of Horror across the entire cultural spectrum. We’ll be taking a look at movies that scare us, games that kept us paranoid, scary books we cozy up with under blankets, music that sets that spooky tone and seasonal food we’re craving–or strange food you’d have to tie us up and force feed us. Whether you’re looking for something truly terrifying or a cozy autumn haunt, come back every day this month for a new bite-sized review or spooky adjacent list. I know saying something is “the perfect” anything is a little bit fraught. It’s hard to satisfy everyone, and there’s so many different genres and individual taste to consider. Bold though it is to say this is the perfect Halloween Playlist, we’re gonna say it. Because this was the hard work of everyone at Culture Combine, and it crosses genre boundaries, spans decades, and includes deep cuts and pop culture favorites. You’ll find moody instrumentals, driving industrial, murder ballads, “oldies”, pop, piano and so much more. Somehow, it all makes sense together, and somehow, it’s melded into what we think is the perfect playlist for your Halloween party, your Halloween commute, your long Halloween shower, or your anything, really. Turn it up, get in the spirit, and have a blast with this one!

The release of a new LAIKA film brings two reoccurring themes to the forefront; a.) Nobody makes movies like this anymore and b.) the process is as interesting as the finished product. More or less. Wildwood does the same, but immediately elevates the discussion. Five minutes into the film and the process washes away like waves on the sand and all that is left is the story, the world-building and the performances. All of which are truly outstanding. Based on an original story by Colin Meloy of the Decemberists with original illustrations by Carson Ellis, Wildwood borrows themes from other well-known stories to present something wholly original. A brave girl must enter dangerous territory to save a loved one against dark and terrible odds. We've heard that song before, but not sung like this. It's a wild and wonderful pleasure to be sitting in a movie theater and NOT know what's going to happen next. There's a little bit of Labyrinth, Bedknobs and Broomsticks, Narnia, The Borrowers Down Under and The Lord of the Rings all mixed together here. And it works so very well. The film offers Talking Animals Wearing Clothes and "Peopling" so I'm already 100% on board. But then there's absolutely carnage in a brutal and intense final battle sequence. So you get your Owls In Waistcoats, but you also get your beheadings, stabbings, and bodies burning on battlefields. As an adult human being, I loved absolutely all of that. This film is animated, sure. But it is 1000% not for all kids. We talk a lot about writing a villains with a sympathetic backstory and sometimes that works, sometimes it doesn't. It works remarkably well here and the film benefits immensely from it. There is a lot to emotionally invest in here. Vocal performances are strong, across the board. But they're all so well cast that you don't hear the actor in the performance; you hear the character. Which is another sublime joy from the film. Wildwood is lush and beautiful. It wears its artistry with confidence and bold kinetic energy. The plot zips along to a satisfactory conclusion. And the world is so rich that it would take multiple viewings to see all the vibrant life happening on the borders of the movie screen. If you're nostalgic for a time when fantasy movies could carry you away to magical and beautiful worlds, Wildwood is here for your journey. I enthusiastically encourage you to take it in on the biggest screen that you can find. No after-credit scene but LAIKA helpfully adds a little behind-the-scenes in the credits, with a new song by the Decemberists and beautiful animation. What more could you want?

Horror isn’t just a genre; it’s an amalgamation of pop culture, cozy traditions, and things that go bump in the night. This year, we're taking our 31 Days of Horror across the entire cultural spectrum. We’ll be taking a look at movies that scare us, games that kept us paranoid, scary books we cozy up with under blankets, music that sets that spooky tone and seasonal food we’re craving–or strange food you’d have to tie us up and force feed us. Whether you’re looking for something truly terrifying or a cozy autumn haunt, come back every day this month for a new bite-sized review or spooky adjacent list. Screenshot: SOMA SOMA is Greek for “body” and while it’s an apt title, it’s also a bit ironic, as “body” is something SOMA plays fast and loose with. Taking the mechanics that made Penumbra: Overture and Amnesia: The Dark Descent hits, SOMA stays true to that formula while introducing a whole new level of body horror and existential dread. What makes a person a person? What happens when you copy consciousness? If you haven’t played SOMA, I highly recommend you just go and play it. Minor spoilers follow. SOMA is a first-person survival horror game in the same vein as Frictional’s other games like Penumbra: Overture and Amnesia: The Dark Descent. There is no combat: you run and hide from enemies. There is also the famous “tactile” feel that Frictional adds. You don’t just open a door, you pull it open. This helps put the player into the world, and therefore, closer to the horror. Screenshot: SOMA I think that SOMA excels because it uses gameplay mechanics to tell its story and they’re used in a way that’s impactful as part of the story. I’m talking about body swapping–that is, when you have to swap your consciousness from one body to another to progress. Well, more like copy than swap. In SOMA you play as Simon Jarrett. Dying in 2015, he scans a copy of his brain only to immediately wake up over a century later. Simon finds himself inside a strange, unfamiliar body, stuck on the bottom of the ocean in the ruins of Pathos-II, an underwater research laboratory–and the last remaining place on earth with humanity. At least what little is left of humanity. Simon has to navigate these new horrors while discovering the earth he knew is long destroyed, and his life under the ocean is full of confusing horrors. And to survive, ultimately, he has to choose to switch consciousness from one body to another. Screenshot: SOMA Body swapping in SOMA is done in a way to trick the player. Simon is told by a researcher named Catherine that each swap is basically a 50/50 coin toss–you’ll either find yourself the one who is swapped, or you’ll be the one left behind in the old body. At one point, Simon must "transfer" into a heavy diving suit to survive the abyss. When the new Simon wakes up, the player immediately takes control of him, leaving the old Simon asleep in the chair. Because the camera—the player's perspective—shifts to the new body, Frictional Games effectively tricks the player into believing the transfer worked. SOMA's mechanics deliberately gaslight the player into sharing Simon's blind denial. The true gut-punch comes moments later, when the game forces you to decide whether to euthanize the old Simon or leave him to eventually wake up completely alone in a locked room. Screenshot: SOMA There are, of course, traditional horror moments in SOMA. But the real horror is knowing you’re just a copy acting out humanity while humans have been wiped out on the surface, while the complex’s AI tries its best to “preserve” humanity by uploading human consciousness into mechanical constructs and mutating corpses–making horrific biomechanical anomalies. Add to that the crushing depth of the deep, dark ocean and I’ve never played a game that so isolates the player while taking away anything that can make them feel safe. It’s a masterclass in horror, and one of my absolute favorite games ever. s

Screenshot: Virtue and a Sledgehammer Sometimes life just makes you want to smash things. That's (somewhat) the premise behind the highly emotional, and very smash-y Virtue and a Sledgehammer. ​Virtue and a Sledgehammer is a third-person narratively driven catharsis simulator. In it you play as Pratelle, who returns to her hometown to find the people all replaced by robots that have their memories and emotions. The town holds all sorts of ugly and hard memories for Pratelle–about her relationship with her mother, friends, family, etc. Good thing Pratelle brought a sledgehammer. Screenshot: Virtue and a Sledgehammer ​Narratively, Virtue and a Sledgehammer is complicated. It mixes emotional family drama and that outcast, black sheep feeling we've all experienced to some degree. It relies heavily on cinematic sequences of interactive fiction to explore themes of family, tradition, trauma and the guilt that comes along with that. It explores some heavy subject matter like grief, loss of loved ones, abuse, suicide, euthanasia and other sensitive topics. The physical destruction therefore isn't always catharsis, it's emotionally complicated, as you smash machines with loved ones’ memories and the memories themselves. It's not just a power fantasy. Screenshot: Virtue and a Sledgehammer ​Highly stylish, Virtue and a Sledgehammer uses low poly graphics that are reminiscent of the fifth generation of consoles. Something about the combination of graphics and gameplay gave me serious Red Faction Guerrilla vibes. Especially because of the destruction potential–like the ability to destroy walls and most buildings in a single, well-placed strike. ​Since you're wielding a sledgehammer for the majority of the game, everything looks smashable. Not everything is. I can understand the limitations on a technical standpoint, but I was always bummed when my rampage was stopped by a parked car or a fence when I could take down buildings with ease. Screenshot: Virtue and a Sledgehammer ​There is combat in Virtue and a Sledgehammer–and while you'll be smashing robots that are trying to hurt you, some beg not to be hurt. Or taunt you to do it, if you dare. While the enemies swarm to you, the challenge comes in timing your swings. You can push, half-swing or full-swing. If you get overwhelmed and die, you can always choose to not give up and keep fighting through. ​While a sledgehammer might be a desirable substitute to traditional therapy, it won't solve Pratelle’s problems. Just smash them up. The entire game is a mood, and that mood is angry on the surface, but with so much human pain underneath. It's a beautiful game that I encourage everyone who has been labeled a misfit to play.

Horror isn’t just a genre; it’s an amalgamation of pop culture, cozy traditions, and things that go bump in the night. This year, we're taking our 31 Days of Horror across the entire cultural spectrum. We’ll be taking a look at movies that scare us, games that kept us paranoid, scary books we cozy up with under blankets, music that sets that spooky tone and seasonal food we’re craving–or strange food you’d have to tie us up and force feed us. Whether you’re looking for something truly terrifying or a cozy autumn haunt, come back every day this month for a new bite-sized review or spooky adjacent list. Depending on who you talk to or when they last saw it, there are people who will describe Doctor Who in a lot of different ways. Some will call it a low budget British sci-fi show. Some relegate it to a kids' show. Some consider it a legacy sci-fi series that is beloved not only in Britain, but all over the world. One thing to know about us here at Culture Combine - we LOVE Doctor Who. We're here for Classic Who, NuWho, and everything in between. In fact, we all regularly attend Chicago TARDIS on Black Friday weekend just to soak up the Dalek, Cyberman and Companions of it all (and it's a BLAST.) But this is Halloween, so what are we doing here? Well, since the very get-go, there's been some seriously scary things that the Doctor's had to face with his companions, and we're looking at the scariest episodes of this sci-fi classic in no particular order. There's both NuWho and Classic in this list, and they're all amazing. Don't take these lightly - some of them literally had us staying up late with the lights on just to recover. And whatever you do, don't blink. Midnight (Series 4, Episode 10) Midnight is simultaneously one of my favorite and least favorite episodes of Doctor Who. Not because it's too scary, which it kinda is as the Doctor not only faces an invisible antagonist -a fairly common trope of the series). Nor is it the confined setting that makes it a prime example of a Bottle Episode. Rather my slight disdain for the episode comes from another common plot point/cliche/whatever we're calling it this week: not listening to the smartest person in the room. The episode takes place on a heavily radiated planet with a top of the line resort. While his companion at the time Donna basks at the resort's spa, the Doctor finds himself on a shuttle tour to see a sapphire waterfall. On the trip a never truly seen entity takes over people on the tram, sending everyone into a panic as they try to survive and oust this invisible, conniving, and alluring threat. And there's the Doctor doing his damndest to get everyone through the situation...BUT NO ONE LISTENS. The mass frenzy has everyone pushing logic to the brink and while normally this would irritate me to no end, they way Russell T Davies manages to make everything make sense, even within the narrative, is astounding. My annoyance turns to fear as things seem to be at a breaking point, but of course this is an episode of Doctor Who, so everything turns out alright I guess, but nothing is as frightening as the Doctor's look of disappointment at the end of the episode. Blink (Series 3, episode 10) “Blink” is one of the most iconic episodes of the David Tennant era and introduces one of Dr Who’s most iconic villains of modern era Who. For me personally, it’s also probably the most frightening. Part of The Doctor's message to Sally Sparrow in "Blink." Via Wikipedia. The episode starts out in an unusually creepy way from most other episodes in the Tennant era. Sally Sparrow (Carey Mulligan), our main companion for the episode (despite only meeting the Doctor once, for just a moment) is exploring an abandoned and disheveled mansion at night when she comes upon a message written under the peeling wallpaper that reads “BEWARE.” As she strips apart the wallpaper, the message is a warning – for her – of the weeping angels. What follows is a slow burn of well-paced horror and complex timey-wimeyness that defines Doctor Who as a series, despite it being a “Doctor lite” episode. Sparrow is being stalked by the angels – creatures as old as the universe that feed off potential energy – “all the days you might have had, all your stolen moments.” Their greatest strength and weakness is that they exist in the abstract and turn to stone when observed. Even before I saw “Blink” for the first time, I’ve always felt unsettled by stone statues. They’re near the top of the list of things that creep me out the most, right next to porcelain dolls. What makes the angels one of the most powerful and scary villains in all the Whoverse is that they seem so common. Stone statues are literally everywhere we go, from giant effigies in big cities to tiny lawn ornaments. Despite The Doctor explaining that they’re “the most malevolent life form evolution has ever produced,” Blink slow rolls that power. They really do just creep up on our heroes at first. We learn very early that they’re responsible for The Doctor being stuck in 1969, but don’t see just how malevolent they are until midway through the episode. They’re also terribly hard to beat. How can anyone defeat an enemy that can grab you from behind before you notice, or even right in front of you should you blink? There are some fantastic moments of levity as well. Sally seeing the other video store clerk yelling at a movie saying “go to the police! Why doesn’t anyone go to the police” is a nice little meta moment for everyone who’s yelled at the obviously bad decisions characters make in pretty much any horror media. Larry Nightengale, the nerdy introverted video store clerk, provides good comic relief in his interactions with Sparrow. Since “Blink,” Doctor Who has brought the angels back multiple times and while in all of those episodes they’re still scary, their initial introduction remains one of the scariest moments in all the Whoverse. The God Complex (Series 6, episode 11) We open the episode with a policewoman named Lucy wandering the halls of a truly creepy old hotel worthy of comparison to The Overlook in The Shining. Lucy is terrified, opening doors seemingly at random. “You don’t know what’s going to be in your room until you see it. Then you realize it could never have been anything else,” she says internally while scribbling in a notebook. She adds that the moments of her “worship” are getting closer together and notes that she’s the last person left. The hairs on the back of my neck were standing on end in just those first two minutes of the episode, and they didn’t recede until the very end. The Eleventh Doctor (Matt Smith) and Amy and Rory Williams (Karen Gillan, Arthur Darvill) end up arriving to the hotel where they’re met by several other humans and an alien. The hotel is just a façade. Our characters are rather stuck inside an automated prison with an ancient alien minotaur that feeds off the faith they’re brainwashed into developing for the creature to cope with being trapped inside their greatest fears. There’s a lot in this episode that’s downright terrifying. Plenty of jumpscares, a room full of ventriloquist dolls and a guest appearance by a weeping angel, and lots of long shots of liminal space and odd angles. But the most horrific thing about The God Complex is being forced to watch characters lose their mind and will and giving themselves over completely to the creature with a maddened smile on their faces. It’s not just about being immersed in whatever frightens you the most, but the possibility of being so terrified that you’ll give up the very essence of who you are – your core beliefs, your faith – to escape. The Empty Child/The Doctor Dances (Series 1, Episode 9 and 10) Let’s start with one I bet you’d find on a lot of lists - no, not Blink – The Empty Child/The Doctor Dances. I watched this again with my husband back at Chicago TARDIS this past year. Aside from the very visceral fears brought about by a London under siege in a world war, and the introduction of a very impish and important character in Jack Harkness, you have the supremely terrifying phenomenon that is the empty child. This child never ceases his search for his Mummy, dressed in a schoolboy’s uniform with a gas mask secured to his face. He’s able to call on phones, come through in radio signals…and it’s terrifying. “Are you my Mummy?” This two-parter is full of twists and turns, including that there isn’t just one “empty child” and they may not be children at all. And though it’s also one of the sadder episodes, it’s also one of the episodes with the most hopeful ending, and that’s the kind of thing Doctor Who does best. Silence in the Library/Forest of the Dead (Series 4, Episode 8/9) A giant library the size of a planet sounds like a vacation more than a nightmare to me. Unfortunately, that's not the way it goes for the Tenth Doctor when he goes there with none other than his best companion Donna Noble (obvi) This is a very important episode in the canon of the show as a whole, as it's the first time we meet (and the first time the Doctor meets) River Song. Why is that such a big deal? Spoilers, sweetie! For the time being, the Doctor's here because of a psychic message, and on arrival finds it quite empty, having been sealed for 100 years. But there's a warning: "others are coming" River's an archaeologist leading a team who is exploring the library, but she seems almost intimately familiar with him - just one eerie thing in this episode.This is also where we meet the Vashta Nerada, an alien species that acts as a collective (kind of like the Borg) and swarms people in an instant, leaving only their empty shell of bone behind. Yet there are those who remain, and echoes of the people they used to be. It turns out that the patrons of the library have been trapped somehow?What's even happening here? The answer is a lot more complicated than you'd expect, and when microscopic aliens who can reduce you to bare bones are lurking in the darkness, it's not gonna be a good time. Wild Blue Yonder, 60th Anniversary Special (2023) It feels like just yesterday I got freaked out thoroughly by this one, and I mean thoroughly enough I had to find something pleasant to do before I went to bed after this one. This was the second of the 60th anniversary specials, after "The Star Beast" which was...ok. Still, though I daren't admit it around the fandom at the time, I was excited to see Tennant again, because he's my Doctor. And Donna? Well, icing on the cake. I love the way she challenges him, and doesn't take any shit from him, but is also kinda best friends with him. It's such a great relationship. Anyway, the Doctor and Donna get stranded on an abandoned spaceship because TARDIS malfunction. The spaceship was already giving Event Horizon vibes, but then they find an old robot moving extremely slowly around the ship and almost nothing else. No signs of life, and only some unintelligible announcements that are followed by a reconfiguration of the ship. As they're trying to figure this out, they split up. Or do they? Because soon after the pair splits, they find...other versions of themselves. These versions are not anyone's friend, and they seem to have no concept of size and shape, and therefore warp their forms into hideous long limbed versions of the Doctor and Donna. But it's not enough that they're copying their physical form - they're also stealing their thoughts. The stakes are high, and it's hard to figure out who's who (or a Not-Thing, as the dopplegangers call themselves). But the Doctor and Donna are close enough to actually work it out and even lay a trap for the Not-Things, and they figure out the secrets of the ship and the Not-Things in time to stop back by Camden Market, where we get a last goodbye to NuWho favorite Wilfred Mott. Dalek (Series 1, Episode 6) This episode hails from the very first series of "NuWho" with Christopher Eccleston, someone we still wish had a lot longer playing The Doctor. And I suppose if you can read titles, you know some of what'll happen. The Doctor and Rose go to Utah for this one, where they meet a collector of alien artifacts who has some truly interesting things in the massive bunker deep beneath the soil. But it's not just dusty phasers. It turns out, he has a live alien in captivity. Naturally, as this is one of his most prized possessions, he goes to show it off, but it doesn't go as he planned. You see, the Dalek were all destroyed in the Time War, so they're no longer a threat. Or that's what even The Doctor thought. And even though he's weakened and being held captive, you can see the horror cross the Doctor's face as he immediately tries to destroy it. Not so fast though, because he's restrained and then also held captive by our collector and his friends, so he can be invasively studied and prodded. Meanwhile, Rose gets some one on one time with one of the most terrifying enemies the Doctor has ever faced. Only she doesn't know that. She takes pity on it, but when she touches its casing, it's able to absorb her DNA, re-energize and go on a killing spree, escaping its chains, repairing itself, and causing enough damage and mayhem to force our evil collector to release the Doctor to help stop it. There's a lot of reasons this return of the Daleks is scary, but one thing that struck me is the fear in the Doctor's eyes when he realizes the Daleks aren't all dead. There's also the insane abilities of the thing, though, and the way it manipulates Rose, overpowers her and immediately carries out its prime directive: to exterminate any life form that is not Dalek. I used to laugh at Dalek in the OG series as a kid. Why would anyone fear a monster that looks like a pepper grinder with plungers attached to it? But this episode, and this series in particular, start to strike that fear in your heart - the familiar dread of a foe that even the Doctor has nightmares about. Now let's turn our attention to Classic Who and some of its scariest episodes. We've got three picks for you here, but remember, these are serialized differently and so each episode is usually several hours long. Tomb of the Cybermen - Second Doctor, 1967 This classic episode was the third to feature the Cybermen and the first to show how scary they can be. I contend that even though they may look silly here, the Cybermen are at their absolute scariest. But as with most horror, the monsters aren't always the most monstrous entity, as the Brotherhood of Logicians (seriously) have plans to use the Cybermen for their own means. The first three episodes of this four-parter are tight and tense with the fourth falling off a bit—but if you've watched Classic Who, this happens sometimes. You have some great classic characters like Roy Stewart as the mute but massive Toberman. You also have Cybermen ready to assimilate people while saying “to struggle is futile” before the Borg were even a twinkle in Maurice Hurley’s eye. Terror of the Autons - Third Doctor, 1971 I'm so terribly sorry but WHAT THE FUCK. Come for the return of the Autons, stay for the Master. This serial features everyone’s favorite plastic-come-alive aliens: the Autons. Featured in this episode are killer chairs, faceless mannequins with guns for hands, and a murderous, Chucky-sized troll doll. The story is also notable for being the very first appearance of the Master (in a commanding performance by Roger Delgado), and it introduces companion Jo Grant. Coincidentally, Roy Stewart makes an appearance here, too—though he’s no Toberman this time around. The Ark in Space - Fourth Doctor, 1975 This 1975 serial is jokingly referred to by fans as the inspiration for Alien (1979). And while the atmosphere building in “The Ark in Space” is lacking, the threat itself sounds a lot like what would be in Ridley Scott’s film: an alien gets on board a ship and lays its eggs in a sleeping crew . Tom Baker is brilliant in this, along with a great performance by Elisabeth Sladen as Sarah Jane Smith. And despite the effect being bubble wrap painted green, seeing the parasite take over Commander Noah’s body is effective body horror.

Screenshot: Remothered: Red Nun's Legacy I’ve been playing survival horror games for a really long time. Arguably, since the birth of the genre since I first cut my teeth on games like the Alone in the Dark series before I even started playing Resident Evil. In this time I’ve played some great survival horror, and some terrible survival horror games. (Ironically, games in the Resident Evil franchise touch on both ends of that spectrum.) I would love to say that Remothered: Red Nun’s Legacy is a great survival horror game, but it’s just okay at its best, and frustrating at its worst. It’s October, so I knew I’d find myself sneaking around, hiding under couches and inside closets from bad things trying to find me and hurt me. It’s always some monster or crazy psycho. This particular flavor of aggressor is a nun, transformed into a blind, sound-reactive killer by whatever enigmatic forces power The Red Nun. Screenshot: Remothered: Red Nun's Legacy Remothered: Red Nun’s Legacy is the third game in the Remothered franchise, and while it promises to finally tie up the loose ends of the trilogy, I jumped into this entry with promises that I don’t need the previous two games before I could get into this one. And while that’s mostly true, I still felt like I was dropped into the middle of a series with no idea what’s happening. Remothered: Red Nun’s Legacy is a survival horror game played from a third-person perspective. You take control of Susan as she searches for her missing daughter. This search brings you to an evil residence full of nasty, mutated creatures and puzzles to solve involving statues and other unlikely keys. While there is a bit more combat in Red Nun’s Legacy, since you have the ability to use makeshift weapons to temporarily stun enemies, you’re still as helpless as ever. Run, sneak and hide as you delve deeper into the horror and uncover the truth of the Red Nun. I mean, if you care. Screenshot: Remothered: Red Nun's Legacy And that’s a lot of the problem. While Red Nun’s Legacy is a competent enough game, it did nothing to excite me or compel me to keep playing. The entire time I’m playing I couldn’t help but compare Red Nun’s Legacy to a more competent Resident Evil game. It’s like the “we have Resident Evil at home” meme. That’s not to say that Remothered: Red Nun’s Legacy is a bad game. It’s just an at-times boring one that brings few original ideas to the survival horror genre. From the setting to the types of bad things you see, they have all been depicted in one way or another. That’s not to discount the game’s atmosphere and creepiness. Screenshot: Remothered: Red Nun's Legacy It is definitely a scary game, and some creative work has gone into it. The enemy design and grotesque imagery do a lot of the heavy lifting to keep things unsettling, and the sound design is great—especially when you’re listening in the dark for a blind killer that reacts to every noise you make. Gameplay-wise, there’s something a bit off about Remothered: Red Nun’s Legacy, too. Moving around never feels quite as fun as it should, making the long stretches of sneaking tedious. The stealth just feels slow, and it doesn’t really add anything to the formula that other survival horror games haven’t already done. And there are few times when the tension is laid off enough to appreciate the down moments, making the pacing feel way off. I know inevitably someone’s going to love these games and hate my take on it. That’s fair. But Remothered: Red Nun’s Legacy isn’t a bad game, it’s just not a good game. And mediocrity sometimes is worse for a game.

Screenshot: Ecstatica I Alone in the Dark (1992) was an incredibly important game in the evolution of survival horror. It established the look and feel of what an entire 3D horror genre would look like for the coming decade. Games like Resident Evil, Dino Crisis and more owe a lot to the inspiration of Alone in the Dark. But another game series that was important and rarely talked about is Ecstatica and its sequel, Ecstatica II. The first game launched in 1994—just two years after Alone in the Dark—while the sequel followed in 1997. I remember playing it at some point, but it's a memory that blurs into the dozens or hundreds of other games I’ve played from that era. Screenshot: Ecstatica I Ecstatica is a historically significant early entry in the survival horror genre—before the genre was even coined as such, in fact. It takes place in 928 AD in a European village named Tirich. You play as an unnamed male or female traveller who seeks shelter in the town only to discover it is overrun with all sorts of creatures. While most survival horror games have you come across a nightmare that has already mostly played out, the carnage happening in Ecstatica is still unfolding. Panicked people are trying to hide, while others are trying to fight off monsters. But the town is so absolutely crawling with creatures, any step can get you jumped by an ape-like creature or mobbed by mace-wielding goblins. Screenshot: Ecstatica I I haven’t quite played another game like Ecstatica. It’s uniquely chaotic, especially if you’re not expecting the density of encounters and puzzles. There is no slow burn. As soon as you take your first steps you’ll have something on your heels ready to strike. It’s also tonal whiplash, moving from horror to action to dark humor, sometimes within seconds. Ecstatica is also very visually unique. While older games were known for their blocky polygonal look, Ecstatica used the Ellipsoid Engine, rendering the world and characters out of ellipsoids rather than polygons—giving everything a rounded, surreal look. While it might all look bright and balloon-like at first glance, the surreal nature of the art style does a great job creating a dark atmosphere just from how wrong it all feels. Screenshot: Ecstatica I Also, Ecstatica features a complete lack of map, minimap, quest marker, quest logs or even a health bar. You can tell if your hero is nearing death purely through animations. Combat is also strange and consists of flailing your arms or whatever object is around. And despite constantly being under attack, you can ignore most enemies—if you know how to avoid them, that is. Screenshot: Ecstatica II Alongside the original, SNEG has also released Ecstatica II, the 1997 follow-up. This is my first time playing the sequel, so I was a bit bummed to learn that a lot of the charm from the first game was replaced with dark seriousness. Not to say that all joking was removed, but Ecstatica II takes a darker tone right from the start. There is also more of a coherent intro setting up the goings-on along with a health bar to let you know what your hero’s vital status is. The gameplay remains similar, though it's not as densely packed with puzzles and enemies–not to say the chaotic nature of the first game is completely removed. Don’t expect a generational shift in terms of storytelling and gameplay. It’s more of the same, just a little darker and larger. Screenshot: Ecstatica II From a gaming preservation point of view, the rerelease of Ecstatica and Ecstatica II is important. These are games that aren’t easy to get running on modern systems, even if the files are floating around the internet. Along with these releases are all sorts of options preservation nerds like me enjoy: the ability to toggle to old graphics versions—like the DOS and CD-ROM versions, as well as the modern updated graphics—on the fly. There is also full controller support that adds a bit of a modern touch without removing the tank-like controls. There’s even a “shaking legs” option which I had to look up: I guess there was a visual bug in the original release that can be reproduced by toggling that option. Purists rejoice, indeed. Screenshot: Ecstatica II I wouldn’t necessarily recommend these two releases for modern gamers. However, if you’re interested in retro oddities, it doesn’t get much odder than Ecstatica and its sequel. These are true hidden gems, and important stepping stones on the path to modern survival horror. The protag of Ecstatica had to walk (and trip on rocks–seriously something that can happen in-game) before the likes of Leon Kennedy could flip kick zombies to oblivion. Ecstatica and Ecstatica II are available on Steam today

Screenshot: Reka I’ve had my eye on Reka for a while now. Witch powers and a walking chicken-legged house is all that it took to pique my interest. It’s nice to see a game where not only can you play as a witch, but you can choose your own path: whether to be wicked or good is entirely up to you and your actions. Reka is a third-person adventure game in which you control the titular character as she seeks out the Baba Yaga to learn the ways of being a witch. There’s no combat; instead, most of the gameplay consists of completing objectives which usually revolve around gathering items, helping out (or hindering) villagers, and completing trials for your witch mentor, the Baba Yaga. Based in an alt, dream-like Slavic world, it is full of authentic Slavic folklore. There’s also a building element, but just calling it that is severely underselling it. In fact, I’d say that building your house on giant freaking chicken legs is a main selling point in Reka. Screenshot: Reka When it comes to mobile bases, I have to say that Reka has one of the best. I used to think the Cyclops in Subnautica was my favorite in-game vehicle/base, but Reka’s walking chicken house is not only fantastically delightful in concept, but it’s a pretty damn fun design project. Reka is about building an awesome house and outfitting it with all the cool stuff you discover in the world as much as it is about going out and doing witchy things. In fact, I probably spent more time building and customizing my house–and then strutting around to admire my work–than I did any other activity. There’s something intoxicating about building a house on a freakin’ kaiju. Hell, Dark Souls’ Lost Izalith would have been fixed if they just let me build on one of those demon butts. But I digress. Reka’s building isn’t perfect, but it’s certainly not the worst I’ve encountered in a video game. Camera angles can get a little claustrophobic when you’re trying to place clutter in tight corners, and piece-snapping occasionally fights you when you’re constructing multi-story, crooked towers, but the sheer freedom to build an asymmetrical gothic monstrosity makes up for the quirks. Part of the challenge is actually acquiring new structural styles–like birch, spruce, or clay–and decorative items to put in, on, and around your walking house. Screenshot: Reka This is accomplished by interacting with the world. Each time you’re done with one area, you can feed your giant bird mount and take your entire house into a new region–which will then generate a whole new set of people, buildings, items to potentially discover, tasks to accomplish, etc. While you’re out looking for clothing and cool stuff for your house, you can also harvest ingredients for food, potions, and furniture/decor/house expansions. While a normal person would pick ingredients with their bare hands like a dummy, you can command a murder of crows to flock out and gather your ingredients for you. Once you earn the blessing of the forest spirit Leshy, your crows will even knock down entire trees for timber–so long as you replant enchanted larch cones to keep the woods happy. As you progress, your witchy toolkit expands to include pine branches for smoke-cleansing haunted houses or calming beehives, indoor planters for growing herbs on the go, and a clay oven for baking everything from bread to cabbage soup. You can even scoop up stray black cats, foxes, and goats in the wild and bring them aboard to live in your chaotic bird-mansion. Screenshot: Reka Besides housebuilding, there’s an entire story and sidequests you can occupy yourself with like fulfilling local requests and completing witch trials for the Baba Yaga to advance the story. Each new map means a whole new set of points of interest and villagers you can help out–or terrorize. You might heal a family’s sick cattle and bake meals for the starving on one stop, or ruin someone’s harvest, steal their livestock, and scare the hell out of superstitious locals on the next. Beyond the villagers, you’ll commune with Slavic deities like the life goddess Siva and don the ritual Dziady mask to cross the veil and judge restless ghosts in the swamps and spruce forests. Unfortunately, once the initial folkloric charm wears off, the actual quest design starts showing its seams. Most of your errands boil down to straightforward fetch quests, and after a few procedural maps, the world begins to feel less like a living, reactive RPG and more like a scenic resource dispenser to fund your next home renovation. Overall, Reka is an okay game. While I enjoyed the base-building, everything else in Reka feels like it took a backseat to that. Between the repetitive village errands, a procedural loop that wears thin faster than it should, and lingering technical oddity that still crops up when loading dense maps or navigating terrain, the adventure outside your walls feels undercooked. Screenshot: Reka While I certainly found building the best aspect of the game, the full package still doesn’t feel quite ready for 1.0. I know there’s a point where you just have to push it out, but I don’t feel like Reka has quite made it to be the best game it could be. Perhaps through further support it’ll eventually get the polish and mechanical depth its premise deserves, but it’s more likely than not the version we have now is as deep as the cauldron gets. If you just want a cozy, atmospheric architectural sandbox where you can build a crooked dream cottage on the back of a giant chicken, Reka will scratch that itch–just don’t expect the game around your walking house to be nearly as magical as the house itself.