First of all, I shouldn't even be writing a blog post. I'm in Switzerland, where happiness is practically a government mandate and cheese grows on trees. I should be running down the Alps or taking a swan-shaped paddle boat across Lake Geneva. But it's almost midnight and I think it's time to ignore the rich cultural heritage and sublime beauty of this peaceful European country and focus on what's really important--video games.

I didn't get a chance to partake in what I'm sure was a heated deliberation for our E3 Awards, but I couldn't be happier with the results. I'm sure a lot of people are scratching their heads at our off-the-track choice for Game of the Show this year, and I don't blame them. Splinter Cell looked phenomenal, I cannot wait to get my hands on Uncharted, and Silent Hill scared me even though I was standing in a convention center with thousands of people. This was an incredible show, way better than any E3 I have been to, and everyone has their favorite franchise/developer they are pulling for.

But Scribblenauts is something really special.

Every since I heard about the concept a few months ago, I've been intrigued. It's a puzzle game where you can write down any object you can think of and, like magic, it appears in the game, complete with it's most common characteristics. It sounds like a fantasy, or some game from the far distant future. It doesn't sound like it would actually be able to work now, especially not on the least powerful system currently out there. Do you know how many words exist? Thousands! Tens of thousands!

And yet, it somehow works. Just about everything we tried during our many times fooling around with Scribblenauts was in the game. God, kraken, black hole, parallel universe, Ebola, chupacabra... everything! But it's so much more than that. There is a really cool puzzle game beneath the flashy, do-anything exterior. It really feels like you can pass these puzzles in whatever way you can imagine, as long as it fits within real-world logic. Just getting a star out of a tree can be incredibly rewarding. Cut the tree down with a chainsaw. Summon a hawk to knock it to the ground. Use a ladder to climb to the top. Slop some glue onto an anvil and stick that heavy combination to the star, dragging it to the surface. It's crazy how much freedom you have to solve the puzzles. I've never seen anything like it, and, most importantly, it's really fun.

My colleagues already voiced their opinion by giving Scribblenauts Game of the Show, but I just needed to jump in from halfway around the world and applaud this awesome game. I can't even imagine where this concept will lead to.

I would gladly snap Ninja Blade in half to punish it for its egregious sins, but such a quick death would not suffice for the unprecedented torment this game has put me through. Like a tasty lollipop that spews acid every five minutes, the fulfilling nourishment of Ninja Blade has been needlessly contaminated with bugs and scorpions and maybe even poisonous spiders. My problems started last night, when I was peacefully carving up my foes, finishing quick-time events with reckless abandon, and generally being the type of ninja a mother could be proud of. It's fun to slice and even more fun to dice, so happy was I wielding my sword. It seems so very long ago.

It was midway through the second level, just after I finished off the Slime Copter with a flourish, that the trouble began. A cutscene cued up, as is the case after any semimajor battle, and I dutifully skipped ahead as I always do with pointless stories. There I was, fire glaive in hand, when my girlfriend innocently asked if we could watch the newest episode of House. Seeing as I had just reached a checkpoint, it seemed like a doable request, and I turned off my console to watch the comedic styling of Hugh Laurie. I'll always remember that episode of House as the last moment I was in possession of my own sanity.

Because Ninja Blade is so darn fun, I was eager to restart my quest when my favorite medical drama ended. I loaded up my game and immediately noticed something was wrong. I was in a helicopter. There is nothing wrong with a ninja riding in a helicopter, but this seemed eerily familiar. Instead of continuing from the checkpoint I so rightly earned, I was shoved back to the beginning of the level, all my progress mysteriously erased. What post-NES game doesn't contain midlevel checkpoints? The sheer absurdity of the situation was enough to make me growl and vent with rage, but I bottled it up inside, took a deep breath, and quietly turned the system off. I went to bed--fingers crossed--certain this problem would be magically rectified after a little sleep.

Fast forward to today. Firing up my saved game, I once again was forced to start at the beginning of the level. No surprise there--I had convinced myself that playing through those 40 minutes again would build some much-needed character--and I happily started off again. I already knew the lay of the land, so I was able to fly through the level with unfettered determination. That worm boss that seemed so difficult the first time? Now felled with a few precise swipes. I was a ninja's ninja, a man born in the shadowy black pantsuit that allowed me to anonymously destroy my unnamed foes. And once again, I was caught up in the unrelenting joy of slicing and, don't forget, dicing, quick timing like a man possessed. The life of the ninja is a good life indeed.

This time, I took down that haunted Slime Copter in record time, tearing through the rest of the level in the same heated pace. The end boss, a giant in size, was miniscule against my ninja might. He died quickly, in a glorious explosion that made me yelp with joy. And then, when the game was awarding me my 3000 rubies of power, the darndest thing happened--the screen went black. And it stayed black. For minutes on end, I stared at the screen, willing it to load. To save. To do something to remember my hard-fought victory. But it was hopeless. My game had crashed and with it the third level I had rightly earned vanished. Once again, my furious anger rose in my throat, only to be blocked at the last second by a moment of rationality.

"That sucks," I muttered.

I had already played through this level one and a half time. I knew my way through this cursed second level better than the designers at this point. Surely, if I could run through at a breakneck pace during my second play through, my third would set a record more improbable than the three minute mile. I took a brief break at this point, my rational side again taking center stage, as I installed the game onto my hard drive. My theory: if the system could not read the disc during that ending sequence, I'll just spool the data beforehand so something like that would never happen again.

Once again, I slayed the worm, busted up that copter, and extinguished those fires before the game even realized I had pushed start. 45 minutes from beginning to end, I was nearing the final boss when I got to a rather benign section. A few enemies were lined up on a ledge before me, throwing their purple balls of death. I batted them back, quickly killing them, and then tossed my shuriken. My fancy ninja blade knocked down the wall across from me, giving me access to a grapple point. I quickly switched to my ninja hook, ran to the edge of the platform, and jammed on the A button. My ninja started to jump like a magic bean. "What's going on?" I thought. When a grapple point is exposed, tapping the A button is supposed to propel you across the pit. But there was no prompt. I was stuck on that ledge, jumping like a fool, with no way to cross it.

I tried to backtrack but an invisible wall made sure I couldn't leave the ledge. I desperately jumped around, cycled through my weapons, and threw my ninja stars like a man possessed, but nothing happened. I pushed all the buttons down at the same time, hoping I could commit seppuku, but apparently that move isn't programmed in this game. I was stuck on this rock with no where to go. "Crap," I thought. I selected "Restart from checkpoint" in the main menu, hoping I could jump back a few minutes and continue on my way, when my evening got significantly worse: Disc. Read. Error. My game had crashed. I had played through the level 3 times, devoted almost three hours of my life to that bug-filled second level, and had nothing to show for it.

And when I sat down to write this angry blog post, a spider was above my computer, making me run to my girlfriend for help. Clearly, this is a bad 24 hour stretch for me.

What do I do now? Can I possibly play through this level a fourth time, knowing full well that some new problem will surface? Or do I live vicariously through Kevin, whose fabled shouts of glee made this game sound so appealing? I'm lost and angry and scared. If the game wasn't super fun, I would gladly have snapped it in half and walked away from it forever. But everything about the game--apart from the broken save system and tendency to crash--is great. I rode a missile into a helicopter for Christ's sake! Thinking about the awesome battles, the surreal scripted events and gargantuan monsters, makes me excited to fire it up one more time. I'm just not sure how I will react if I fail again.

I have never played a Fatal Frame game before. Off the top off my head, if I had to guess what the series was about, I would guess that you wield a camera of justice and walk around haunted environs while taking pictures of scary beasts. You know how some cultures fear having their picture taken because they believe the image isn't the only thing being captured--their soul is stolen as well? I always pictured Fatal Frame employing a similar concept, but with a Pokemon Snap twist. Why am I bringing up this C-Level franchise now? Because Fatal Frame IV, a game stashed away on my secret Most Wanted listed, is never going to arrive on US shores. I've never been so sad that I'm an American.

I love weird games. You can only play so many cute platformers and gritty shooters before you need a palate cleanser. Every few months, I try something completely different just to see how strange games can be, and I come away refreshed and excited for another motion-controlled boxing game. Sometimes, those strange games don't quite work (I'm not sure if Noby Noby Boy is actually fun or not) but other times, I get swept up in the crazy world and feel like I discovered some unknown land, like my recent exploits with Rez HD. My favorite strange game? Killer 7. Oh my, what a game. From the art to the gameplay, characters to the story, this was the wackiest game I've ever played. And yet, despite being strange enough to entertain just on its sheer exoticness, it was darn fun as well. Say what you want about the limited gameplay, it was super fun uncovering an enemy's weakspot and blasting that yellow splotch until they bled everywhere. Good times. Needless to say, I am a big fan of Suda51, and No More Heroes (though not nearly as good as K7) cemented his place as a "Must Play All His Games!" developer.

Nintendo doesn't quite agree with that title.

Suda was kind enough to lend his insane mind to Tecmo for Fatal Frame: Mask of the Lunar Eclipse. He wrote a story I can only imagine is disturbing in a giddy way, and let the other members of the team worry about silly things like art and gameplay. When I heard about this collaboration, I was pumped. A new Suda game? So soon? For me? Yay! And then I waited. It was released last July in Japan to good reviews (an 8 from Edge is nothing to sneeze at) and then was quietly brushed under a doormat.

Nintendo has the rights for this game. They can decide if they would like to release it or not. For some crazy reason, they have chosen to not release it. Yeah, it may not sell that well, but does it ultimately matter? The Wii is thriving right now, but it's fairly light on new releases. Furthermore, there are so few horror games, it's quickly going the way of the point-and-click adventure and futuristic basketball--genres that don't even exist anymore. You can take away my Bill Lambeer Combat Basketball sequel, but you'll never steal my terror! Nintendo is sitting on what could be a bastion of hope for fans of the fear, with a story penned by one of the preeminent creative minds of our time. Sitting!

I am peeved. I do not speak Japanese nor do I have the cognitive capacity to learn such a crazy language. Heck, I don't even know how to play a Japanese game on my Wii, apart from importing a new system. So I am left pining for a game that will never be released. I'm sure Nintendo would sell this game to another publisher. Someone like Sega or Majesco would be free to give Nintendo a bag full of money, translate what is sure to be a crazy story, and release it on US shores. But the risk would be too high for most companies. What is the market for something like this? 50,000? Maybe 60,000? To have to buy the rights and then spend more to translate and release, it doesn't seem worth it. Especially when a minigame collection would be so much easier to make.

Either way, this whole thing makes me sore. Nintendo should either publish the darn thing or relinquish the rights. There is nothing to be gained for depriving people of what could be a darn entertaining quest to capture the souls of evil beings.

You may be wondering right now if your eyes are playing tricks on you. "A top 8 list," you may be thinking to yourself. "In this society of circles and spheres, shouldn't a top list be represented by a round number?" No, it should not. My year-end lists always encompass the games that I loved, no matter how many that is. Last year I had a top 11, whereas 2006 only had 7 games worth wooing. Plus, what's more round than 8? It's made of two circles! Only a monstrous 3 circled number or, heaven forbid, a 4 circled freak of nature could top this curvy delight.

On to the list!

8. Burnout Paradise - It took me a good 10 hours before I actually started to enjoy this game. The city is so huge, that just learning how to navigate its treacherous streets is an oftentimes arduous ordeal. But you know what? I stuck with it because there wasn't anything else out last January, and once I learned how to play, it was a non-stop blast. As strange as this sounds, this was probably the most violent game I played last year too. Those crashes made me cringe. The multiplayer is especially awesome. There's nothing quite like having seven of your friends ridicule you as you desperately try to jump through a hanging airplane cylinder. I just hope with all the DLC they keep churning out they come up with a better crash mode.

7. Banjo-Kazooie: Nuts & Bolts - This is one of those rare (pun!) games that literally has no peers. I have never played a game like N&B before, and the sheer novelty is enough to make it a memorable experience. But you know what? It's really fun as well. Making vehicles is a cinch, and trying to come up with creative ways to pass the objectives is rewarding and often hilarious. I can't wait to see this idea expanded in the future, with crazier objectives and more outlandish worlds, but in its current form, it's easily one of my favorite games of the year.

6. Culdcept Saga - Yeah, it's a card collecting game. I understand how lame that must sound for people who have not experienced its awesomeness. But it is awesome. It combines the nerdy glee of playing with mythical cards with Monopoly, which makes it a lot easier to pick up and more fun and strategic once you get going. I probably sunk 100 hours into this beast earlier in the year and still haven't unlocked all the cards and fancy avatar parts to cloth my naked character.

5. Prince of Persia - It's easy, but who cares? Not every game needs to be difficult to be fun, right? Navigating around the beautiful environments was a joy, as was seeing the relationship develop between the crass Prince and the noble Elika. And the ending is making me drool in anticipation for the next game in series. I've never played a 3D platformer that was so inviting, that constantly rewarded players instead of punishing them when they coudn't make a treacherous leap.

4. N+ - From the easiest platformer of the year to the most challenging in one smooth jump. Have you noticed a trend? I love platformers, and N+ was the best pure platformer of the year. Without a compelling story, complex characters, or an exhausting creation tool to get in the way, it was able to focus on just pure running and jumping bliss. The co-op levels provided some of the most memorable experiences of the year. The levels are designed with teamwork in mind, so you'll have to rely on your buddy to get to the next level. It makes for a frantic and often anger-filled experience, but it's still one of my favorite games around.

3. No More Heroes - What a weird game this is. The story is absolutely nuts, and the characters are so over-the-top, they are impossible to believe. But that works in this game's favor. It knows it's ridiculous and relishes in it. And the combat showcases some of my favorite uses of motion controls on the system. You use the A button to swing your lightsaber, but finishing moves are performed with a hearty slash in whatever direction you want. Lopping off heads never gets old. I can't wait to see what Suda has in store for the sequel.

2. Braid - I was shocked at how good Braid turned out. I've seen time manipulation used in games before, but it's usually just a simple rewind feature, like Sands of Time. A way to erase a stupid mistake. But the time mechanic in Braid was implemented in such devious ways that you'll have to think long and hard, and logically, to pass these puzzles. And the ending was just fantastic. I couldn't get over the events, thinking about the satisfying twists all through the night and into the next day when I started to work on my review. An unforgettable experience.

1. Metal Gear Solid 4 - Holy crap, this game is amazing. I plowed through the whole thing in two 10 hour sessions, and then went online to read other people's thoughts on the controversial ending. I absolutely loved every second of this game, and this is coming from someone who had spent one painful hour with the first MGS a decade ago and hasn't touched the series since. The stealth/action was immensely rewarding, letting you tackle situations in whatever manner you choose, but the sheer variety in the gameplay kept me on the edge of my seat throughout. From excellent vehicle sections to heart-pounding boss fights, this was as fun a game as I have played this year. And the story! Oh my! Yeah, I didn't understand everything (what's Foxdie?), but, at its core, this is just about relationships and conflicts between different people, and I certainly grasp that. The characters were strongly developed and their motivations felt real. Just writing this makes me want to play through all over again.

Who would have guessed a nuclear fallout could be so depressing? I'll concede that, during such a catastrophic event, most people would die and the tortured living would be crazy with the smell of death enveloping them. I'll even admit that buildings designed to withstand a 4.0 shake on the Richter scale may not be able to stand strong during a 40 megawatt blast. Yes, shades of gray dominating the landscape seems like a plausible consequence for setting off a massive bomb. But does it have to look so darn uninviting?

I have been playing Fallout 3 the last few days and I feel like I am the unlucky survivor of a digital, yet still quite powerful, blast. A large part of the appeal of playing games as a whole, and specifically open world games, is the joy in discovering new places that not only provide enticing gameplay opportunities, but offer a visual treat as well. It's why I so eagerly traipsed through Stilwater and Liberty City this year, roamed the lands of Albion twice, and place Nippon at the top of my virtual vacation resorts. I search for diversity, beauty, and exhilarating new areas... and Fallout 3 doesn't have any of that.

Everything looks identical in post-apocalyptic D.C. One town melds into the other, each awash in a sea of indistinguishable crumbling buildings and a gray palette that has never heard of the word "pigmentation." Fallout 3 is an ugly game, almost too ugly to play. RPGs are an escape, a way to experience the world in a consequence free environments. To interact with people in a way you would never dream of in real life and see sights mere humans have not been privy to.  Yeah, the game captures what the world would be like after the bomb hits, but is that really a good thing? There is no imagination, no life, no reason to explore in Fallout 3. 

I am not a stupid man. I understand that, to create a post-apocalyptic wasteland, you have to eschew the majority of the color scale. I knew going in that this wasn't going to be as warm or enticing as Nuts & Bolts or Oblivion. The sheer lack of imagination is startling, though. I am not impressed with a strict representation of what our world is destined to look like. They could create a virtual cow intestine or factually correct landfill and I wouldn't want to experience those either. Fallout 3 has become a monotonous, arduous experience. Apparantly, a perfect recreation of human destruction makes for a lousy game world. 

I have issues with the shooting (the worst aspects of First Person Shooters and Role Playing Games in one tight package!) and the character interaction (three choices, none of them what I want to say), but it's the bleak aesthetics that's keeping me away. Is there a reason to keep trudging through this desolate landscape? Or should I shelve it for a world actually worth visiting?