Sunday Papers opens its winter frame with a reminder that Sundays are for staying in, reading essays, and stocking up on warmth rather than plans. The column functions as a cultural digest that blends gaming, writing, and broader media, anchored by a personal voice that revels in lists, debates, and practical curiosities. This week’s notes nod to the editor’s own RPS 100: Reader Edition—an annual invitation for readers to tell the publication about their favourite games of all time—and to Eurogamer’s reader-written list for 2025. The result is a sprawling snapshot of what readers and critics are returning to—and what they’re predicting—at the start of a new year in games and culture.
A central thread in the issue is the reception of Despelote. Eurogamer’s Maccydee describes the game as "A game of remarkable intimacy and intelligence. While it primarily presents itself as a remarkably vivid portrait of a very particular place and time, it's hard to grasp the true nature of Despelote until its final few sequences." The piece frames Despelote as more than a localised portrait; it’s a meditation on autobiographical art and storytelling, where the line between fact and fiction becomes a crucial element of the nostalgia it conveys. The writer finds the game’s formal tricks among the year’s most electrifying, even as the narrative unfolds within a carefully drawn social and geographic milieu.
Looking ahead, the column shifts to predictions for 2026. GamesIndustry.biz’s Jon Hicks surveys a panel of experts to forecast the biggest stories on the horizon. Manu Rosier, director of market intelligence at Newzoo, goes big: Valve will re-enter the spotlight by officially revealing Half-Life 3, not as a nostalgia play but as a statement about where high-end PC gaming is heading. The reveal is framed as a hybrid moment of game, platform positioning, and technology leadership—an ambitious nexus that could shape what “PC gaming” means in the years to come. The piece suggests that 2026 could hinge as much on platform strategy and hardware capability as on the title itself.
Another voice in the mix is our own Edwin, who attempts a forecast of 2026 by interrogating his own mental weather rather than canvassing experts. The result is described as "equally informative. Score one for the plague brain. Take that, boffins." The note captures a self-deprecating humor about how personal, and even afflicted, perspectives can reveal unexpected patterns when looking ahead at a fast-evolving industry.
This Week In Video Games continues its examination of generative AI tools in game development by focusing on the work of voice actors. The reporting highlights the controversy around Embark Studios’ Arc Raiders and the shift toward AI-generated voice lines, while also contrasting it with the human workload that AI can replace. Sarah Elmaleh, a voice actress with credits in Hi-Fi Rush, Anthem, and Gone Home, challenges assumptions about session length: "Oh my God, yeah. Many games [can be done in] a single hour session, a single session — AAA too." She adds that for secondary characters or additional voices, a four-hour session may be common, underscoring both efficiency and the demands of professional performance. The discussion acknowledges that the economics of voice work are changing, and the debate over automation sits at the intersection of craft, labor, and player experience.
The notes take a sharp left into offbeat cultural territory with a Guardian clipping by Jim Waterson that reads like a satirical dispatch from a drizzly October afternoon. In it, a rural Lancashire pub becomes the setting for a surreal, almost procedural tale about mollusc orgies and snail taxation. A 79-year-old snail farmer describes shell companies that reclassify an empty office block as a farm to evade taxes, their slow, repetitive multiplication framed as a wry cautionary tale about cleverness and loopholes. The piece contrasts with other Guardian content in the same round-up, reminding readers that even within gaming culture, the line between industry talk and real-world absurdity can blur in unexpectedly entertaining ways.
Elizabeth McCracken’s writing advice also earns a space in the digest. Her guidance about plotting emphasizes the distinction between needful and needless mysteries: "In fiction there are needful mysteries and needless mysteries. If the author and characters know a secret and only the reader is left in the dark, that’s a needless mystery. If you withhold a fact and think, When I reveal this, it’s going to blow the reader’s mind, nine times out of 10 it will only make them think you’ve been playing cards with an ace up your sleeve." The discussion offers a clear reminder that craft—and reader engagement—often hinges on where a story chooses to reveal information.
The Traitors returns as a case study in how mystery functions on screen. The column notes that the show’s approach to withholding identity from viewers creates a kind of needless mystery that complicates the social dynamics of the game. As the piece puts it, withholding who is betraying whom can undercut the audience’s ability to parse the fiction being constructed, underlining how important transparency can be to the tension and clarity of reality-based game formats.
Cultural cross-pollination remains a frequent motif. The notes reference Howl's Moving Castle and a literary hook tying John Donne’s Go and Catch a Falling Star to Pentangle guitarist John Renbourn’s setting of the poem. For readers seeking a more traditional tune-in, Pentangle’s Sovay is recommended as a song that captures a different energy—one that blends storytelling with a rebellious mood—and broadens the conversation beyond the screen into music history and interpretation.
This Sunday Papers digest, anchored in gaming culture but leavened with writing craft, media coverage, and satirical reportage, reflects a culture at once layered and responsive. It treats games as narrative media with real-world implications, while also inviting readers to consider the ethics of AI in performance, the craft of storytelling, and the sometimes absurd political economy that underwrites creative labor. In its breadth and voice, the column serves as a reliable lens on how culture circulates through games, lists, articles, and the occasional mollusc anecdote—an apt badge for a Culture & Opinion piece that refuses to be narrow, even as it keeps its feet firmly planted in the latest conversations across the medium.
