NYU Game Center One thing that makes videogames unique is that their beauty is often invisible and ineffable. A game can have beautiful parts that we can point at: dazzling art, a moving soundtrack, or a sublime story. But it can also have a beauty that you only sense by playing it, that you cannot simply show someone, and that you can’t locate in any of its parts. That’s the sort of beauty that suffuses Stephen’s Sausage
Roll. If you haven’t played it, I can’t really convey what makes it the best game, except to say ‘it has good puzzles’, which doesn’t begin to capture what I like about it. But to dance around it a little more: the best game should have great clarity of vision, and not be muddled by too many cooks like Mario 64 is. It should have a light touch, doing no more than it needs to, and never outstaying its welcome like Dark Souls does. It should have a worthy climax, and not peter out like Shadow Of The
Colossus does. And the best game should sketch an expanse of possibility much bigger than its actual bounds, rather than fencing you in like Ocarina Of
Time. That’s Stephen’s Sausage Roll.