DEREK EX MACHINA, created by author and editor Derek L.H., is a blog dedicated to exploring the effect that video games and film have on people.
Signposting gets a bad reputation, but it’s truthfully one of the most effective tools to help developers ensure that players get to do cool shit. Good signposting can help make complicated games feel effortlessly simple and intuitive to players while never taking away from the fact that what the player actually accomplishes is, in fact, quite complex.
Wildwood is a movie so good that it begets thought about how we deserve more instances of the escapism that Wildwood effortlessly captures. And yet, that escapism was, in fact, captured by rigorous effort, resources, and heart. That much is self-evident with every frame of animation.
To fixate on length of games is to disregard what brings us to video games in the first place. We play games because we want to experience something that activates our brain, our soul, our essence. Wanting games to arbitrarily hit a certain length for the sake of it undermines what art should be game and all art should be about.
Digger is weird, flawed, ambitious, and exactly what I want to see more of - and if large companies like Skydance and Disney won’t greenlight projects like that in the future, then that means it’s more important than ever to support independent filmmaking, smaller distributors, and emerging talent.
The quality of Saros’ storytelling is a byproduct of the many developers, systems, and layers of presentation that come together to create the package that is Saros. On a narrative front, they fail to align and elevate the core narrative that I see quality in at the very heart of this game.
The games industry needs another blue ocean because the writing is on the wall, just as it was for Nintendo over twenty years ago. A looming crisis is going to severely impact how accessible and affordable games will be for people, and the only way to circumvent this tragedy-to-be is to brainstorm another way forward.
At their core, video games are an expression of humanity. They are an expression of fun. And for the health of the industry, I think we need to return to projects that unrelentingly cognizant of that.
I’ve had difficulty praising Ghost of Yōtei ever since completing it, mostly because its positive qualities are clearly self-evident to anyone that’s already gotten a taste of this series with Tsushima. Ghost of Yōtei doesn’t add many new reasons to like this style of game nor does it create new positive qualities about it that were completely absent in what came before.
I played Kingdom Hearts because doing so gave me joy, and it reminds me that I want to write stories and make games to bring joy to others. There doesn’t have to be more to it than that. It may not be possible to be normal about Kingdom Hearts, but I think remembering the value of finding joy during our limited time in this world is the most normal, natural thing that we can possibly strive for.
Although Octopath Traveler 0 recycles content from both the original Octopath Traveler via settings and characters as well as Champions of the Continent via story and party members, it ultimately takes familiar elements to carve a new path forward. I think such an approach is deeply admirable, especially because it does so in the pursuit of ensuring that all the content produced in CotC will now permanently live on.
How much fan service is too much? At what point does fan service cause the broader experience to deteriorate? Does having fan service necessarily make something worse, and how so? We’re certainly part of the reason why fan service exists in the modern media landscape to the degree that it does. But we are also the reason that it can be kept in check.
Dragon Quest I & II HD-2D Remake walks a fine line between respecting the mission of the original games while making them more mechanically and narratively satisfying to play.
Xenosaga is as interesting of a series to talk about as it is because it’s impossible to blanket hate or love the series. Anyone that plays Xenosaga is going to have a complicated relationship with it because, well, Xenosaga itself is complicated. The inherent complexity to everything about the series is what makes it so fascinating to play, to discuss, and to remember.
Xenogears proves to us all that compromise is not a scary word. It’s something that we should embrace and allow us to get creative with how we tell our stories and present our ideas to the world. So let’s do just that.
If 2025 was an indicator of anything, it’s that we all deserve to continue allowing art to surprise us, and open our hearts enough for new, unexpected stories to reshape how we think about the world. Here are the 2025 films that did just that for me.
Between the domination of indie developers throughout the year to the sheer variety of ideas posited in many of the year’s best games, 2025 was, in my eyes, a net gain for the overall direction that the games industry is headed on. Here are my top five games of 2025!
I truly hold my gameplay experience of Shin Megami Tensei V: Vengeance with extremely high regard. This game offers some of the best turn-based combat I’ve ever experienced in a game. The game delivers excellent atmosphere that keeps the uniquely SMT twist of grunginess alive and fresh. There’s so much to like in Shin Megami Tensei V: Vengeance that it makes its few shortcomings stick out even more.
I had fun while watching Hundreds of Beavers - but more crucially, I felt alive. Getting to engage with something alongside others in such a visceral way was the precise experience I needed at this moment in my life.
Age of Imprisonment is a game that is itself imprisoned. Its commitment to tell a canon story and inherit the best (and worst) of Tears of the Kingdom’s mechanics and identity limits its overall potential. That isn’t enough to make the game a disappointment, but it is enough to bring into view the chasm that separates the game that Age of Imprisonment is versus the game it could have been.
Little Amélie or the Character of Rain is a sweet, tender exploration of the humanistic value of sentimentality and companionship. It’s a remarkably human film, despite its protagonist consistently trying to convince herself otherwise
