alisaplaysgames

Alright, let’s talk about planning. Because apparently, you have to do it. Calendars, to-do lists, bullet journals, apps that remind you to breathe… it’s all very organized , very productive , very Instagrammable . Except. Most of my plans last about as long as a Snapchat story. I schedule myself to “wake up early” and five minutes later I’m bargaining with the snooze button like it owes me money. I plan to “write that blog post” but then spend an hour watching cat videos because, priorities. And don’t even get me started on meal prep — “eat healthy” turns into “order pizza” faster than you can say ‘kale’. But here’s the catch — without some kind of plan, I’m lost. Like seriously, lost in my own apartment. So I keep trying, failing, and trying again. Because planning does help, even if it looks messy. Here’s what I’ve learned: Plans are not contracts. They’re more like guidelines with a lot of wiggle room. Sometimes the best plan is to have no plan at all and just see ...

 Let’s be real: the perfect workspace doesn’t exist. You can have a solid laptop, fancy noise-canceling headphones, and a comfy chair — and still end up looking like a survivor from a low-budget apocalypse movie most of the time. The Laptop The ASUS ExpertBook B1400CEA-XH51 is reliable, lightweight, and the battery lasts forever. Perfect for not being chained to an outlet. But that doesn’t stop me from doomscrolling through social media or forgetting to turn off my Zoom camera. The Headphones Headphones are my little shield from the world. I love noise-canceling ones because focus these days is basically rocket science — especially when someone’s juggling pots and pans in the next room. But after three hours, my ears want to sue me for abuse. The Chair The “ideal chair”? Dream on. My throne is somewhere between a battered office chair and a broken couch. After four hours, my back reminds me that this is not the way. But who listens to their back when a deadline’s breathin...

 Let’s play a game called “Is This Petty or Is Society Just Wrong?” Spoiler: It’s both. Here’s a list of things that make me irrationally angry — and no, I will not be taking constructive criticism at this time: 1. People who reply “ok” to a three-paragraph message. I just emotionally invested in this conversation like it’s the season finale of a Netflix drama, and you gave me “ok.” Not even a “k,” which would at least be rude with flavor. Just ok. 2. Clothes with fake pockets. If the pocket doesn’t work , don’t exist . I’m tired of getting emotionally attached to a stylish jacket just to find out the pockets are sewn shut like the developers left them in beta. 3. Unskippable 5-second YouTube ads that feel like 30 years. Why is it always some guy yelling at me about investing in crypto at 2AM? Sir, I am lying on the floor eating cereal from the box. Read the room. 4. Waking up 2 minutes before your alarm. Oh cool, my body has learned to betray me preemptively . Thanks,...

So I booted up Spiritfarer thinking it was going to be some chill, artsy little indie game where I float around in a boat and hug cartoon animals. What I got was a beautifully disguised existential crisis in cozy pajamas. Let’s talk about it. 🚢 The premise: You’re Stella, a ferry master for the dead. Basically, you inherit Charon’s job, but make it soft, warm, and full of soup. You sail the seas, help spirits deal with their unfinished business, and when they’re ready, you guide them into the afterlife. It sounds cute. It is cute. But also… devastating . This game doesn’t slap you with sadness. It whispers it in your ear while playing a gentle ukulele in the background. 😢 The characters: Every spirit you help is basically a full-blown metaphor for death, grief, or letting go. And no, it’s not subtle — but somehow it works. There’s a hedgehog grandma who bakes pies and forgets who you are. There’s a snake who was once your spiritual mentor. There’s a freaking lion who’s...

Let’s get this out of the way: I know this game is “art.” I know it broke boundaries. I know it’s deep, emotional, gritty, raw, insert-all-the-adjectives. But after finishing The Last of Us Part II , all I could think was: “Was it worth the emotional damage and 25 hours of stealth-crawling through bushes?” Don’t get me wrong — it’s a well-made game. It looks stunning. The acting? Chef’s kiss. The soundtrack? I’d listen to it while journaling about my non-existent breakup. But let’s break it down like a slightly bitter post-apocalyptic cake: 💔 The story: Yes, it’s bold. Yes, it subverts expectations. But subversion isn’t always satisfaction. Some choices felt like they were made purely to shock, not to say anything. I didn’t need a Disney ending, but I also didn’t sign up for a revenge spiral that made me question if any of these characters had a single healthy coping mechanism. And I’m sorry, but halfway through the game when we suddenly jump perspectives to “the other side” — I g...

So… this is it. First blog post. Yikes . Feels like the first day at a new school — no one knows you, everyone’s pretending they don’t see you, and you’re sitting in the back hoping not to make it weird. Well, guess what? I am weird. And I’m not here to fake anything. I’m Alisa (at least here I am). I love video games. Not because it’s trendy or “nerdy chic” or whatever — but because games are my escape. And sometimes, they’re my therapy. I play a bit of everything: from rage-inducing shooters to cozy indie gems where you pet cats and grow tomatoes. Sometimes I laugh, sometimes I rage-quit, and sometimes I get stuck rereading one in-game line for 20 minutes because “something feels off.” What you’ll find here: Game reviews — honest ones. No “10/10, amazing,” unless it actually is . If something sucks, I’ll say it. Rants about broken mechanics, useless NPCs, and tutorials that treat you like you’ve never held a controller in your life. The occasional deep dive into a game’s ...