Recent reviews by SherNoir

⭐️⭐️ "I Wanted a Chill Rafting Trip, Not a Shark-Infested Survival Nightmare"

I downloaded Raft thinking it would be a relaxing, aquatic adventure. Just me, the open sea, and a leisurely float on some planks. What did I get? A stressful, waterlogged panic simulator where the ocean is out to get me and the sharks have a personal vendetta.

Day 1: I’m standing on four sad pieces of wood, holding a hook and wondering if I can make friends with a seagull. Spoiler alert: seagulls are jerks. I tried to catch some floating trash with my hook and missed. Repeatedly. I swear the ocean was mocking me. “Oh, you want that barrel? Too bad, enjoy your single plank.”

Then the shark shows up. Bruce, they call him. Bruce doesn’t want to be my friend. Bruce wants to eat my raft—and my hopes, dreams, and sanity. Every time I patch a hole, he takes another bite out of my home. I’m basically a hobo on a floating buffet, and Bruce is an all-you-can-eat customer.

I tried expanding my raft to get some breathing room. Big mistake. The more I build, the more Bruce sees me as a deluxe meal. He attacked my raft so much that by Day 3, I was living on a single tile, clutching a plastic cup of saltwater, crying, and asking myself, “Why didn’t I just play Animal Crossing?”

Oh, and hunger and thirst? CONSTANT. I drank saltwater by accident and nearly died of dehydration. I finally got a purifier going, but it felt like a cruel joke: “Congratulations, you now have a shot glass of fresh water every 10 minutes. Stay hydrated!”

Fishing was supposed to be calming. Instead, it’s a desperate attempt to catch anything before I starve. I ate a raw fish once out of pure desperation, and my character looked as disgusted as I felt. When I finally cooked a fish, Bruce ate half the raft before I could eat my dinner. It’s like he has a sixth sense for ruining my day.

And the islands? Oh, you mean the tiny teases of land that I can never quite reach because my raft moves like a snail on tranquilizers? I finally made it to one and was so excited… until a seagull pooped on me and a boar chased me back into the water. Thanks, nature.

2 stars. I spent more time repairing my raft and fighting off ocean jerks than actually enjoying the view. I wanted to be a survivor; instead, I’m a floating snack for sharks and birds. Would I play again? Sure, because I’m stubborn and I clearly enjoy suffering.

⭐️⭐️ "I Died. A Lot. Vikings Would Be Ashamed."

So, I booted up Valheim thinking I’d live out my Viking fantasies: conquering lands, slaying monsters, and building epic longhouses. What actually happened? I spent 95% of my time getting absolutely wrecked by bees, falling trees, and suspiciously aggressive boars. The only thing I conquered was my own patience.

First day in the game: I punched a tree like I was in Minecraft. The tree punched back by falling on me. Respawn. Then I was attacked by a boar while holding a single rock. Guess what? Rocks are not effective weapons. Also, apparently, my Viking ancestors didn’t believe in fitness, because my character gets exhausted from light jogging. How am I supposed to defeat Odin’s enemies when I can’t even defeat my own stamina bar?

Building a shelter? A nightmare. I attempted to construct a simple hut, but the physics engine had other plans. The roof collapsed three times. By the fourth attempt, it looked like an abandoned IKEA project. I finally gave up and slept in the open, shivering in the cold, while a gremlin named Greydwarf threw rocks at me. Vikings feared nothing—except my architectural skills.

Oh, and let’s talk about the bosses. The first boss, Eikthyr, is a giant electric deer. I showed up with a wooden shield and a prayer. He electrocuted me so hard I saw my ancestors waving at me from Valhalla, laughing. I swear the game spawned me back just to let me die again for sport.

The world is beautiful, but exploration is basically an elaborate death trap. I wandered into the Black Forest, thinking I was ready. I was not ready. A troll the size of a building smashed me into the ground like a Viking pancake. Then I had to do the Walk of Shame back to my corpse, with nothing but my underwear and poor life choices.

And sailing? Don’t get me started on sailing. I built a raft, and within minutes I was stranded in the middle of the ocean, without wind, drifting slowly while questioning my entire existence. Then a sea serpent appeared, took one look at my sad raft, and decided I wasn’t even worth eating. I’ve never been roasted by a sea creature before.

2 stars. I died more times than I can count, my buildings look like abstract art projects, and I’ve been mugged by boars so many times I’m considering a career change. I wanted to be a fearsome Viking warrior; instead, I’m a Viking victim. Would I play again? Absolutely. But only because my wife asks me to.

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ "Where Bluffing Meets Barroom Shenanigans"

I stumbled into Liar's Bar expecting a casual evening of card games. Instead, I found myself in a dimly lit den of deception, where the patrons are as shady as the lighting, and the stakes are higher than my bar tab.

The game throws you into a sketchy bar, complete with sticky floors and a bartender who looks like he’s seen too much. Your mission? Outwit, out-bluff, and out-drink your opponents in games like Liar's Dice and Liar's Deck. It's like poker night at your uncle's, if your uncle was a con artist with a penchant for Russian roulette.

The characters are a motley crew of anthropomorphic animals, each with a backstory more dubious than the last. I chose to play as a fox, thinking I'd be sly. Turns out, I'm about as cunning as a potato. My opponents saw through my bluffs faster than I could say "hit me."

The highlight of the game is the tension-filled moments when someone calls a bluff. In Liar's Deck, if you're caught lying, you engage in a virtual game of Russian roulette. Nothing says "fun night out" like pointing a digital revolver at your head while your friends cheer you on. It's all fun and games until someone loses... well, everything.

The atmosphere is spot-on, with a soundtrack that makes you feel like you're in a noir film, and graphics that capture the grimy charm of a bar you'd never actually want to visit. The voice chat feature adds a layer of chaos, as you and your friends yell accusations, deny everything, and occasionally burst into nervous laughter.

After several rounds, I realized that my real-life friends are disturbingly good at lying. Trust issues aside, Liar's Bar provided an evening of hilarity, tension, and the kind of camaraderie that only comes from mutual deception.

5 stars. Come for the games, stay for the existential dread of realizing you can't trust anyone—not even yourself.

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ "Hot Grills, Hot Tempers, and Questionable Food Safety"

I loaded up Kebab Chefs thinking it would be a chill cooking game. I was wrong. This game is pure, grease-splattered chaos, and I am somehow both the hero and the villain of this smoky, meat-filled nightmare.

Day 1: The kebab shop is spotless. The meat rotates majestically, customers smile, and my confidence is high. I’m slicing meat like a pro, toasting pita like a Greek god, and sprinkling toppings with flair. Fast forward 20 minutes: the shop is a warzone. Lettuce is everywhere, the grill is on fire, and I’ve launched a tomato so hard it’s now a permanent fixture on the ceiling. The customers? They’ve formed an angry queue that’s one kebab away from a full-blown riot.

Every order starts off simple. “One kebab with lettuce and sauce, please.” Easy enough! Then I blink, and suddenly the order ticket reads like a scroll of ancient demands. “Extra meat, no onions, double sauce, a hint of chili, toasted exactly 2.3 seconds.” Relax, Karen, it’s just a kebab, not a Michelin-star tasting menu.

And let’s talk about the grill. My trusty, temperamental grill. One minute it’s cooking meat to perfection; the next, it’s channeling the fires of Mount Doom. I’ve lost count of how many kebabs I’ve turned into charcoal briquettes. Pretty sure I invented a new menu item called the “Crispy Regret Special.”

The physics in this game are also… interesting. I tried to gently place a kebab on the counter, and instead, it launched into orbit. I’m fairly sure it’s still out there, drifting among the stars. I accidentally knocked over a bottle of sauce, and now my entire kitchen looks like it’s been splattered by a paintball gun.

Oh, and the customers? They have the patience of a sleep-deprived toddler. If I take more than 10 seconds to prepare their order, they start tapping their feet, sighing dramatically, and glaring at me like I personally insulted their grandmother. One guy left after I barely dropped his kebab on the floor. Come on, five-second rule, man!

But you know what? It’s addictive. The rush, the chaos, the brief moments of glory when I somehow serve a perfect kebab—it keeps me coming back for more punishment. I’m a kebab artist, a sauce-slinging warrior, and a grill-master on the edge.

5 stars. My kebab shop may be a disaster zone, but at least no one’s died yet. I think.

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ "Saving the World... from Myself"

I started Eco with noble intentions. I was going to build a sustainable utopia, live in harmony with nature, and prevent an asteroid from wiping out all life. Instead, I ended up deforesting half the map, poisoning the rivers, and realizing I was the environmental villain all along.

Day 1: I cut down a few trees to build my cozy little house. Just a few! By Day 3, my cozy little house is a sprawling mansion, and the landscape looks like it was attacked by a herd of chainsaws. The local wildlife now gives me judgmental stares. Sorry, deer, I needed that lumber for my 14th crafting bench.

I tried farming to live sustainably. Turns out, I’m as good at farming as I am at impulse control. I tilled so much land that I accidentally triggered a dust bowl. My wheat field grew two stalks before the soil gave up and became barren. Who knew crop rotation was important? Certainly not me.

Then there’s pollution. Oh, pollution. I built my first kiln and thought, “What harm could one kiln do?” By Day 5, the sky was a brown haze of regret and the air quality was rated “lung apocalypse.” I swear I saw a squirrel with a gas mask.

And the asteroid? Yeah, it’s still coming. I was supposed to research technology and work with my friends to save the planet. Instead, we spent 10 hours arguing about where to place the outhouse. Priorities.

Multiplayer is a blast, though. Nothing says teamwork like accidentally polluting your friend's water supply or clear-cutting their backyard while they scream, “I WAS SAVING THAT TREE!” It’s like a group project where everyone is equally incompetent, but you still have to save the world.

But you know what? I love it. Eco is a perfect simulation of trying to balance progress and sustainability while slowly realizing you're the reason we can’t have nice things. It’s educational, it’s stressful, and it makes you reflect deeply on your life choices while you watch the asteroid get closer.

5 stars. I didn’t save the planet, but I learned to accept my inner eco-villain. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a forest to accidentally destroy.

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ "I Came, I Dug, I Created Traffic Nightmares"

After 13 hours in Construction Simulator, I can confidently say I am the undisputed master of digging holes, pouring concrete, and making OSHA violations look like an art form. Who knew virtual construction could be this addictive—and this dangerous to the digital population?

First off, the game is everything you’d hope for: trucks, cranes, and equipment so big that if you mess up, entire neighborhoods suffer. My first job? Paving a road. What did I end up doing? Blocking off 12 streets, trapping dozens of virtual citizens in their homes, and creating traffic chaos that made me feel like a one-man urban apocalypse.

The crane controls? Let’s just say the only thing I’m constructing with those is creative destruction. I spent 20 minutes trying to swing a steel beam into place, missed entirely, and accidentally flattened a mailbox. Don’t worry; I put an orange cone near the wreckage. Problem solved.

And the excavator? Oh, I love the excavator. Digging dirt has never been so satisfying. But my digging technique is… unique. My construction site now looks like a series of dramatic craters made by a hyperactive mole on steroids. I have no idea if I’m supposed to be building a road or reenacting scenes from an asteroid impact documentary.

Also, driving the heavy machinery on public roads is a thrill. I take up all the lanes. Cars? Sorry, this street belongs to me and my cement mixer now. Watching NPCs panic and do 37-point turns trying to avoid my reckless backhoe antics is pure joy. I’m pretty sure my virtual construction company is on several watchlists by now.

But somehow, despite the chaos, my projects always get done. Sure, there’s a suspicious number of damaged fences, crushed flower beds, and inexplicably missing mailboxes, but the buildings are standing, and I haven’t been arrested… yet.

After 13 hours, I’ve mastered the fine art of barely acceptable construction. My virtual crew trusts me, the townspeople fear me, and I have a fleet of construction vehicles that I absolutely should not be allowed to operate.

5 stars. It’s the only game where I can accidentally flip a bulldozer, fill a hole with existential dread, and still get paid. Time to go make another beautiful disaster.

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ "Farming, but Make It Chaotic Therapy"

I picked up Farm Together 2 thinking I’d find a relaxing, Zen-like experience of tending crops and watching sunsets. Instead, I found myself knee-deep in turnips, desperately trying to remember where I parked my tractor, and yelling at chickens that refuse to stay where I left them.

Day 1: My farm is a peaceful haven. I plant some corn, admire the clouds, and hum a little tune. Day 3: I’m manically planting rows of potatoes while sprinting around like a caffeinated squirrel, because apparently, the sun never sets when you have 2,000 crops to water.

Oh, and my animals? Total freeloaders. The cows give me one bucket of milk a day, and yet they look at me like they’re doing me a favor. My pigs are somehow more productive than I am, casually digging up truffles like it’s no big deal. Meanwhile, I’m running in circles trying to figure out why I have 15 different types of fences but no gates. My chickens are just laughing at me.

Let’s not forget the tractor. My beloved, gas-guzzling partner in crime. I love it, but it guzzles fuel faster than I guzzle coffee. I spend half my time filling it up and the other half accidentally plowing everything in sight. Planted a field of flowers? Not anymore. It’s now a barren wasteland because I sneezed and hit the wrong button.

And don’t get me started on the farm expansions. The second I unlocked new plots, my ambitions went from “peaceful homestead” to “agricultural empire of chaos.” I keep telling myself, “This next expansion will be the last.” It’s never the last. I now own so much land that I’m basically the Elon Musk of virtual agriculture, except with more pumpkins and fewer lawsuits.

But here’s the weird thing: I can’t stop playing. The satisfaction of harvesting 500 strawberries at once? Pure serotonin. Watching my friends wander aimlessly around my farm, trying to “help” while planting crops in bizarre patterns? Hilarious. This game is therapy disguised as chaos, and I’m here for it.

5 stars. I may be drowning in produce and surrounded by ungrateful cows, but my digital farm is thriving—and my sanity is hanging by a corn husk.

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ "The Sequel to My Dreams and Nightmares"

I fired up Cities: Skylines 2 thinking, “I’m going to build a beautiful, efficient city.” Instead, I built a dystopian hellscape where traffic is a myth, citizens revolt over trivial problems, and my CPU sounds like it’s trying to escape reality.

The graphics? Gorgeous! The level of detail is so good that I can literally see the disappointment on my citizens’ faces when they realize they have to drive 8 hours to get to work because I placed their house in the middle of nowhere. Sorry, Brenda, but you chose to live next to the landfill. That’s on you.

I was excited to use the new AI-powered traffic system. Turns out, the “AI” stands for Absolutely Incompetent. I watched in horror as every car in my city tried to merge into a single lane, causing a traffic jam so dense it became a solid object. Somewhere in that gridlock, there’s a firetruck that’s been stuck for 3 years trying to get to a house that burned down last week. The family just lives there now, alongside the smoldering ruins, pretending everything’s fine.

I spent 2 hours designing an intricate roundabout system, only to realize my citizens are allergic to common sense. Buses do donuts, delivery trucks decide to take scenic routes through residential neighborhoods, and pedestrians casually stroll across the freeway like they have a death wish.

And the weather! Rain? Beautiful. Until half the city floods because I forgot to build a drainage system. My citizens didn’t complain, though. They just kayaked to work. At least someone’s getting exercise.

And let's talk performance. My GPU ran this game like it was trying to render the meaning of life itself. By the time I hit 50,000 residents, I was playing a slideshow. But hey, at least I had time to reflect on all my terrible decisions while waiting for the next frame to load.

In summary, Cities: Skylines 2 is a masterpiece. It lets you experience the highs of being a brilliant urban planner and the crushing lows of realizing you have the decision-making skills of a confused goldfish. 10/10 would build another dysfunctional city while my PC begs for mercy.

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ "I’m a Mayor, Not a Magician!"

I started Cities: Skylines with grand visions of utopia—a thriving metropolis with clean streets, happy citizens, and a skyline that would make New York jealous. Five hours in, my city looks more like a post-apocalyptic wasteland designed by a caffeinated raccoon.

First challenge: traffic. I built an elegant highway system, a feat of modern engineering. Then my citizens decided it was more fun to form a single-file line, 47 miles long, for no reason. I watched as ambulances with blaring sirens politely queued behind Karen’s SUV because she needed to turn left at the busiest intersection in history.

My city also has "issues." One minute, everyone loves the fresh water supply. The next, they’re mysteriously dying en masse. Turns out, I accidentally piped sewage water back into the drinking supply. Oops! On the bright side, I no longer have a housing shortage.

And don’t get me started on power. I built wind turbines to be eco-friendly, but apparently, the wind forgot to show up. So, I switched to coal. Now my skyline is just a murky cloud of despair. Residents complain about pollution while still living directly under the smokestacks because, according to them, it has "good schools."

Disasters? You bet. One time, I was finally making progress when a meteor struck my new commercial district. In true Cities: Skylines fashion, half the city was vaporized, but the traffic jam remained completely intact. At least someone in my city is consistent.

Oh, and I tried public transport! Built a bus line that somehow created more congestion. Added a subway. Lost track of the tunnels. Now my trains go on an endless underground odyssey, and I haven’t seen the passengers since.

But the best part? My citizens still re-elect me. Because when you’ve flooded half the city, turned the other half into a garbage dump, and caused more disasters than an insurance adjuster can handle… you’re still better than the alternative, I guess.

5 stars. I may not be a good mayor, but I’m their bad mayor.

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ "The Only Job Where Throwing a Burger at Someone is Encouraged"

I entered Fast Food Simulator thinking it would be a lighthearted game. Instead, it was a stress-induced rollercoaster of grease, questionable orders, and pure panic. Finally, a game that captures the true essence of working in the chaotic world of fast food—without the risk of smelling like fryer oil for days.

First day on the job? My manager is a 3D polygon who somehow has less patience than a real one. The drive-thru line has 72 cars, someone just ordered a "triple cheeseburger, no cheese," and for some reason, the ice cream machine still doesn’t work—IN A SIMULATOR.

And the customers? Oh, they're delightful. A man wearing a tinfoil hat ordered a Diet Water and demanded extra salt on his fries. Another asked if we serve "gluten-free air." I spent 10 minutes trying to serve a burger to a guy who was too busy arguing with the napkin dispenser to take it. I feel like I'm being gaslit by digital people.

The best part? I tried to speed things up by tossing burgers across the restaurant. Turns out, in this game, if the patty lands in the bun, it counts. I’m basically the Gordon Ramsay of yeeting burgers.

At one point, I got promoted to manager. I spent my entire first day standing in the walk-in freezer, just so I could scream in peace. I guess that's pretty realistic too.

I give this game 5 stars because it’s the only fast food experience where I can serve a flaming soda, accidentally deep fry a shoe, and still not get fired.

Fast Food Simulator has it all: chaos, hilarity, and just enough trauma to make me appreciate my real job. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have an urgent virtual ice cream machine to ignore, or rather say is broken like McDonalds because I don't want to do it.