Rami Ismail is a game development consultant, game developer podcaster, and a budding airplane pilot. You can find him on Twitter at @tha_rami.
2021 is over, for better or worse.
Let’s get two things out of the way. First, I did not play Halo Infinite. Since I was 13 years old, I have played every single Halo campaign we could with the same group of friends, in co-op. Halo Infinite does not have co-op campaign yet, which means we’re waiting until we can play it together. Second, I’ve been a bit of a mess so this list is going to be a bit of a mess.
For me, it was an odd year: I started The Habibis with Fawzi Mesmar and Osama Dorias, a games podcast by three Arab game developers, and finally found the Arab home in games that I’d unwittingly been looking for. My post-Vlambeer sabbatical year turned into more work than I’ve ever done before--but for the first time in my life as a game developer I can’t actually talk about a lot of the things I’m doing. It was a remarkable year for me in work, but my personal life felt more like a train derailing off a bridge into a ship that sinks onto a submarine causing it to launch a ballistic missile into an airplane, and then the airplane crashes onto the derailed train, and the plane is carrying a nuclear bomb.
So, inspired by a thousand hours of Flight Simulator and a healthy amount of sadness, I guess I decided to actually train and become a pilot. When I was a wee six-year-old, I had the dream of becoming a pilot, but I’d been told that glasses would disqualify you. I needed glasses, and refused to wear them out of fear I could never become a pilot, until my parents convinced me that wearing glasses would make me more intimidating at the elementary school chess tournament. I won that tournament, so the glasses stayed, and the dream of aviation went.
Turns out the glasses thing is nonsense, so I took some flight classes in my early 20s, but had to drop out because first I couldn’t afford it, and when I could it was because I accidentally started a games studio, so I didn’t have time anymore. And thus, near the end of 2021, I decided to just try another flight class. I’ve been happily flying a Cessna 172 twice a week, weather permitting. It’s been wonderful. Really makes you appreciate how good Flight Simulator is. Also how expensive Flight Simulator is--between the peripherals and now the actual real-life flight training, I don’t think any game has ever cost me as much as that one. “It’s free on Game Pass,” my ass.
Anyway, beyond all that, luckily, there was a surprising amount of video games. I honestly did not expect much of 2021 in games--a new console generation in the middle of an airborne pandemic seems like a place to tone down your expectations, but it was far from necessary: The industry delivered and indie flourished in the space left by many big releases quietly or publicly postponed.
Best Game: Unpacking
Unpacking is a singular type of game--it is painfully straightforward, expertly executed, and laser-focused on its emotional resonance. It is a reminder that the games industry is this towering skyscraper of culture and expectations--choices that reach back decades in time and that defined the path forward--and that sometimes the most beautiful things are found on the grassy field right next door.
Unpacking has no central conflict. There is no failure state. There is no death, no game over, no enemy. There is her items and the place she’s moving into, and you are her. There is no story, beyond the items and the spaces. And yet, by bringing along her ever-increasing collections of figurines and books, the items that stay and those that disappear--Unpacking is by far the most effective video game and video game narrative I have played in a long time. If games are defined by finding meaning in interaction, in their use of rules and constraints to evoke emotions, in their ability to allow players to temporarily be someone else or have different options or problems--Unpacking is as close to a perfect video game as you can possibly imagine.
I played Unpacking thrice this year: the first time when it came out, as I had followed Witch Beam’s game since I was first shown it years ago in development--and I thought it was brilliant.
I teared up for who I was in Unpacking, as I slowly realized there would be no space for me to hang her diploma anywhere in the level--her proof of an achievement I knew she had worked towards for so long. I ultimately had to store it under the bed of the uncompromising and unhelpful partner she was moving in with--a moment so singularly brilliant that that one click made Unpacking my Game of the Year. I teared up again--now of happiness and relief--when the next level was two years later, as she unpacked her items back into her childhood room, eyeing a very obvious open space on the wall, and I cheered when the diploma came out of the box and went straight on the wall. Not a single word was spoken or written, and you knew exactly who she is, who he was, and why it did not work out.
The second time I played it was later in the year. My 2021 was partially defined by an incredibly difficult break-up, and after I spent weeks slowly sorting in my apartment through what artifacts and memories were left here of her, finding some strength each day to pack a few more items into a box. It all made the digital acts and beats of Unpacking incredibly resonant--to the point of feeling a little too soft to continue playing. I had an unembarrassed cry once more as I realized that the game was really telling me that it would all work out--that packing away the remains of my relationship would not be the end of my story--just of that story. It was an oddly needed reminder.
Unpacking allowed me to bring my feelings into the game, allowed me to feel for someone I am not, allowed me to overcome her issues, and then fed the reassurance it gave her back into my life.
And that brings me to the third time I played Unpacking, while writing this list, to help me answer a question that was critical to me figuring out whether Unpacking could be my 2021 Game of the Year: What defines a Game of the Year? Is it the game that affects you most? The game that was most effective at using the medium? The game that was the most impressive craftwork? The game that maintained the most focus on its goals? The game that reminds us that there is more to gaming than winning? For me, it didn’t matter much: for each of these definitions, Unpacking is my Game of the Year.
Best Touch: I already mentioned it, but let me repeat it: the diploma. It is a masterclass in game design. It is the purest form of game. It is narrative and mechanics molded together so well that you feel how wrong it is as you play, and the meaning hits you like a truck. It is perfect. It is flawless. It is the video game moment of the year.
Least Favorite: Witch Beam is uncompromising in their design, and despite effective focus on accessibility, every now and then the game feels like it is trial-and-error--a minor gripe mostly magnified by how smooth everything else is.
Alternative: Inscryption is a straightforward card game. Then it is not.