Here we are, the final voyage of 2024. This is the last advent calendar entry of PC gaming website Rock Paper Shotgun. Days elapsed: 24. Writers employed: 8.
I hope this hurts.
]]>An ancient tale, often re-told - and that's just the story of the development studio that made it.
]]>It was a rainy day when she walked into my office, hard rain, like stray stones from a truck on the highway hitting your car bonnet. I lit my cyber-cigarette and put my feet on my desk, I don't know why, I thought it would make me look nonchalant to this strange woman. She wasn't impressed. "Detective," she said, glaring at me with eyes like gorgeous tennis balls, "I want to open today's advent calendar door." I was confused. "Whaddya wanna do that for, missy?" She sat back, relaxed, and pulled a gun from her purse. "I need to stuff a body into it."
]]>There's a slight breeze and a comforting glow coming from the crack's in today's calendar door, the sound of merriment and many accents from all over the world. Better join in the campfire revelry, because whoever's there won't be staying for long.
]]>Ahhh, the lap of the ocean is calming isn't it? And it's really warm here, too. What's interesting is that the sounds of the sea are occasionally masked by the sounds of multiple segways. Weird.
]]>Huh, it's a little hard to breathe today, don't you think? Like the air's a bit thin. Anyway, I have a job I need to get to and there's this guy who's going to mentor me on my first day. A guy called Mo, who seems nice but isn't particularly talkative. Prefers paper and pencil.
]]>Today's Advent Calendar might take you quite some time to polish off. It's ridiculously dense, darkly majestic, and popular among masochists. Come then, touch the withered arm and be transported behind door number 18...
]]>Uh, it's probably not a problem - probably - but I'm seeing a small discrepancy in today's advent calendar and... no, never mind... it's well within acceptable bounds. Go ahead, open the door.
]]>Today’s door has a big DO NOT ENTER sign, suggesting your immediate opening of it was in fact prohibited. Banned. Taboo, even. Yet it’s hard to see why, as it swings open to reveal a spectacular sunset view, interrupted only by the roar of a mechanical woolly mammoth.
]]>Today’s advent calendar window is a window upon Xmas past. It returns us to the days of LAN parties and dial-up, of demo discs and Fileplanet – a more innocent era, before multiplayer shooters fell under the spell of progression. Not that innocent, maybe. There were plenty of arseholes back then. Some of them now run very large software companies. But at least there was no grinding to ruin your bunnyhopping.
]]>Squeezing through the advent calendar window into a sodden glade of flower and coral, you spy a curious organism on a ledge in the shadows. It’s a video game of some description, though it looks like a squirrel, with frantic white eyes. What’s it doing? Ah, whoops, you’ve startled it. Better follow it offscreen.
]]>Would you like to know more? Open the door and earn your citizenship today.
]]>Today’s advent calendar game is already inside your head, for this is not a game you stop playing, merely one you step away from between rounds. Even after you quit, it lingers on the edge of your awareness like a muffled bassline. It glitters in the air around you like a cloud of spores. It cannot be denied. It can only be…
]]>When I were a lad, you’d open an advent calendar and get a piece of chocolate shaped like a bell with an aftertaste so rancid you’d wish you’d eaten the little cardboard window instead. And you’d bloody well make do, too. Not these days. Now, you get a squadron of tiny automata with drills for noses that burrow through your battle lines and utterly wreck your vulnerable missile launchers. Country’s gone to the tiny robot dogs, I tell you!
]]>Today’s advent calendar pick is one of 2024’s finest games we missed. It troubles our dreams and waking moments alike. It mushrooms in our peripheral vision and drifts towards us as we batter out advent calendar posts, hoping we can finish writing and beat a tactical withdrawal to the kitchen before the accusatory phantom overwhelms us. It’s a game about sin and projectile patterns and llamas. It’s...
]]>There’s an awful lot behind this door, lemme tell ya. Hours of adventure, of tension, of action, of sci-fi strangeness. It’ll be great. Unfortunately the door itself is bugged out so you’ll need to reload a quicksave or something to get it open.
]]>Today's door is shimmering and promises dark magics within. It's an unlikely marriage of big budget publisher and a genre beloved most by smaller development teams. What mastery will unlock the door and expose the vast arenas within? Why, clicking to read more, of course.
]]>You could open today's door, sure. You could also blow it up with an explosive, though. Or shoulder-barge your way through the wall beside it. Or plant some C4 on the ceiling and go up and over. Or I think that's a load-bearing pillar over there - may as well just bring down the entire advent calendar to find out what's behind today's door.
]]>Open a door, then back here again, open a door, then back here again. It's as if we're caught in some infernal loop. Thankfully we get to talk to you, our attractive friends, in the moments between.
OK, ready to go again. Let's open the door.
]]>Hang on, before you enter today's door, take off your shoes at do– Ach, it's everywhere. Take off your socks as well. Damn, it's in all my trouser pockets and– How did it get in my ears? I hate this stuff. Let's just hose ourselves down on the frontstep before we go in.
]]>If you’re the naughty sort, legend has it that on Christmas Eve a portly bearded chap will descend down your chimney and leave behind a lump of coal. The dwarven heroes of today’s game are much the same, except instead of using the chimney they will deploy pickaxes and power tools to burrow straight through your living room wall, and will make off with any minerals in the house rather than leaving them behind in a sock.
]]>Are there any sights more quintessentially Christmassy than a street lit up by warm and glowing decorations, as seen through a snow-graced windowpane? Why, I could gaze through this wonderful window all day. Let’s just hope no-one decides to smash through it, eh? Why, I’d get bits of glass in my lovely warm milk, which would massively downgrade my biscuit-dunking experience. Wait. What’s that? Oh no!
]]>Today’s advent calendar window has an entire cult inside of it. Also, an alcoholic knight speaking in plummy prose between mouthfuls of booze and porridge. What’s more Christmassy than booze and porridge, eh? Not much, we’ll wager. You could pour the booze in the porridge, perhaps? You could call it ‘inebrioats’!
]]>December is here! It has snuck up on us once again, hidden as it always is behind November's back. It's arrival heralds the beginning of the RPS Advent Calendar 2024, the yearly list of our favourite games of the year. Step inside, open the doors, and celebrate another year's gaming survived.
]]>This year’s RPS Advent Calendar has arrived, and it’s time for us to fill the nook behind each door with 24 delightful game-shaped chocolates. But man, it’s hard work making these chocolates. Too much manual labour. I wish we could automate the process somehow - perhaps we just need to exploit the planet’s resources and turn it into a giant chocolate-making factory spanning the entire solar system. Yes, that should work.
]]>
