Brittany's picks:

L.A. Noire, possibly the first Rockstar release I ever saw through to completion, oozed old-Hollywood charm from every single pore – that often romanticized era I’ve come to love through repeated viewings of films on TCM and David Lynch’s body of work. The lush environments and unnervingly realistic models so seamlessly wove themselves together into the most gripping non-linear narrative I’d seen in a long time. The option to skip through the insufferable action sequences ensured anyone could enjoy the sordid tales of murder and intrigue, and the tale of Cole Phelps, star detective to fallen pseudo-celebrity, was a heart-wrenching one. I never thought investigating the murders of random drug traffickers could be so much fun. Same goes for inspecting various bric-a-brac strewn throughout a crime scene. L.A. Noire wasn’t a perfect monster, but it sure did sweep me off my feet.

Despite not having the true ability to choose Catherine or Katherine as my betrothed (promotional materials led me to believe otherwise), Atlus’ ingenious puzzler kept me captivated until the shocking conclusion. Until I tried my hand at this hybrid dating-sim/puzzler I never knew what true frustration really was. Vincent’s trepidation soon became mine. The mind-boggling quandaries I faced pushed me to look beyond my own shortcomings (I’m terrible at puzzles) if I wanted to see how the plot could potentially unfold. Catherine assaulted me with gorgeous cel-shaded art, anime cut scenes, and a protagonist’s agenda that I could understand fully. It’s a beautiful trainwreck of a story and the smartest puzzler this side of Tetris. You know, even if it did make me want to plow into my Xbox 360 with a streamroller. And then set it on fire.

The spiritual successor to Rez, one of the most influential games in all my years of enjoying them, delivered on all its promises and more. Even a lackluster finale couldn’t dampen my excitement for the only reason I bought the pricey Kinect peripheral. I found that playing via controller provided the optimal experience, but as the shimmering, twisting rainbows of Eden’s various stage danced across my screen I knew I had found the second coming of my favorite PlayStation 2 release. Saving Lumi required lightning-fast reflexes and patience, neither of which are my forte, but the sheer variation in locale, gameplay, and plot from the schlock populating the market was a welcome breath of fresh air. Poor sales will likely mean we won’t see another (shame on you, consumers) and it’s a crying shame. The unique art direction and gorgeous soundscapes Child of Eden brought to the table was like sleeping on the cool side of the pillow, except with a lot more hallucinatory visuals.

Despite the intense passion I harbor for all things gaming, three years of reviewing, previewing, and reporting on the latest releases has left me with the beginnings of a rather jaded attitude toward new announcements and projects. The second night I sat and played Saints Row: The Third for four hours straight reminded me that video games aren’t DLC packs, scandals, and highbrow pseudo-experts. They’re fun. I zipped my Saint into a bright pink gimp mask, pasties, and a thong and strutted all around Stilwater. I drove into oncoming traffic in my souped-up hot pink supercar and bought every hot spot in town (even the crack houses.) I raked in the dough and made a name for myself as the fearless leader of the Saints. And when the credits rolled, I was ready to do it all again. With a game so deliciously and shamelessly over-the-top, I finally felt less like another sheep being forced to roll with the changes that more unsavory modern gaming conventions are bringing and more like the ravenous gamer I really am. I can overlook THQ’s shadier business practices for the fact that Saints Row: The Third is the best time I had with a game all year. Skyrim? What’s that?

Collecting fallen angels was a monumental task. Ignition’s spastic yet wholly poetic action-platformer was a raucous journey through the stronghold of each wayward angel; an onslaught of abrupt genre changes, trippy sequences, and often unintelligible plot revelations. A cacophony of sights and sounds like no other. One moment you’re fighting off minions as a silent fallen angel puts on a glamorous floor show, and the next you’re leaping from a crashing wave to a ledge teeming with nephilim amidst watercolor skies and pastel branches. The obvious homage to the infamous Final Fantasy VII motorcycle scene left me breathless and wanting more. By the end of the journey I knew this was merely a one-off, like some of the other games I chose for my “best of the year” awards, that it just isn’t cut out for a general audience. For those of us who like things loud, bizarre, and beautiful though, El Shaddai is certainly a cut above the rest.

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