There’s one particular feeling I associate with a game being an all-time great. It’s a feeling that comes after you already know that it’s a classic, to be fair – after putting tens or possibly hundreds of hours into something. I haven’t played a game that’s triggered that feeling in a couple of years. But Balatro gets to join that illustrious list.
It’s that feeling of getting ready to begin the Suicide Mission in Mass Effect 2; of watching the last great large-scale Street Fighter 4 tournament. Of finally reaching the top of the ‘endless staircase’ in Peach’s Castle, hitting GTA5’s massive end-game choice as Franklin, or watching Sheik reveal their true identity. They all trigger a gut-punch of a feeling: this is the end. And then the realization: I don’t want this to be over.
Most of the time, this feeling is attached to heavily story-driven games. I think it usually only comes about at some nebulous axis of story and gameplay – where both are at some impossible-seeming level of formulaic perfection that alters something in the brain chemistry. The end result is the bonkers sentiment that finishing a game and being done with it feels like a loss, and ultimately offers up the varied and powerful emotions that come with that.
But credit to card-based, RNG-driven roguelike deck builder Balatro: it has triggered that feeling in me. The other night, as I finished the last of its 20 challenge missions, I should’ve just been feeling utter triumph at finally beating that fiddly, difficult ‘Jokerless’ trial. But instead, I felt that bittersweet pang. Whatever am I going to do with myself once I finish the rest this game has to offer?
I’ve still got a bit to go, to be fair – different decks and different stakes need to be checked off, and despite being someone who truly does not care about achievements or trophies to their very core, I’m determined to get them all in Balatro (another of my personal signs of an all-timer). But finishing all the challenges has that feeling of watching the boss of the final ‘normal’ dungeon fall in a Zelda game: it heralds the beginning of the end.
And, god, I don’t want it to end. Balatro is the sort of game you can boot up a file of and enjoy a challenge in any time, thankfully. But the structure of the various challenges and decks is something I crave in games like this, and I know I’ll feel a little less enthused to play once I’ve ticked each and every one of them off. I feel a sense of loss for that. It makes me pray for DLC or free updates, perhaps to add new challenges and Jokers.
This feeling is special, and though it’s one that sort of sucks, I embrace it and love it. Like I say, it only comes around once in a blue moon, and it always signifies a game that will enter my personal pantheon of the greatest games of all time. Balatro has been with me a lot this year, and has been my number one game on Steam Deck by a country mile.
I’ve played it through an uptick in the amount of international travel required for this job as the industry shakes off the pandemic cobwebs, through sleepless nights induced by young children, and helped a couple of impromptu hospital stays to fly by. It is the quintessential toilet game, as well, you know.
That might be too much information. But what is just the right amount of information is this: I’ve not loved any game this year as much as I’ve loved Balatro. It’s the best game of the year, and 150-odd hours in, I’m still not done with it. When I am, I will mourn. That sucks. But it’s also magical.
