Astro Bot: The Ultimate Nostalgia Trip of the Year

In discussing the games from 2024 that truly excelled, one particular sport really stood out above the rest (and is also on my list to engage with this year, which surprisingly launched this year – apologies, Resident Tainted 4 Remake, I honestly forgot you came out in 2023!). Astro Bot captivated me emotionally this year. While a range of other games certainly featured more impactful narratives and characters, as someone who genuinely cherishes video games, Sony’s PS5 nostalgia tribute resonated deeply with whatever part of my brain is responsible for joy. And let’s be honest, that part has been increasingly rare in recent years.

I’ve owned every PlayStation iteration since the platform burst onto the scene three decades ago – tallying seven consoles and two handhelds, in addition to a couple of revisions. However, despite that fanboy level of ownership, I never really thought I had much of an emotional bond with Sony’s console. Please don’t be upset, but if I had to pick the gaming brands I admire the most, I would likely lean towards Sega and Xbox. I did warn you not to take offense. Sega was everything to me as a young lad, and Xbox heralded an exciting new era for gaming as I stepped into my career. PlayStation was merely the cool console in between, or so I assumed. I was naive.

I’ve always maintained that my love for retro games isn’t solely about the games themselves, but how they transport you back in time. In my home office, the first thing I notice when I walk in is a beautiful boxed copy of Sonic the Hedgehog on the Sega Mega Drive. I can’t say I’m eager to play it, but every time I glance at it, I’m reminded of that unfiltered joy uniquely reserved for childhood in this day and age. I felt that again, when I reminded myself of it. Late nights spent trying to beat Robotnik – my brother, cousin, and I keeping the Mega Drive running overnight so we wouldn’t lose our progress. Better times, perhaps. Simpler times, for sure.

Astro Bot has faced scrutiny for being a blatant advertisement that people might be pressured to purchase, a cynical strategy from Sony to tap into an audience that adores the PlayStation. I have no issue with those who think that way (personally, I don’t comprehend the fame of Animal Crossing, if we’re going to share unpopular opinions). I just don’t care. Perhaps I should dissect it more profoundly and feel a deep sense of shame, but I honestly do not want to.

From a gaming perspective, Astro Bot is exceptional. Mechanically it’s incredibly polished (if not quite as ripe for god-like mastery as some of the 3D Mario titles), the levels are filled with innovation, and it’s a visual and auditory delight. It’s captivating. However, it’s not just a game. It serves as a portal – like my Sonic the Hedgehog copy, it is a gateway to another time. Much has been made of the core characters, the Bots you encounter throughout the game, which are charming and transform the hub/interactive museum once unlocked. Yet, there is one moment that moved me more than any other.

I may not describe it in detail, but towards the end of Astro’s journey, the game shifts its focus and you find yourself in a 3D tribute to the classic shm’ups, the side-scrolling shooters of the past. During this segment, a moment is underscored by the playing of the original PlayStation boot jingle. I genuinely don’t know what it was about this tune, played at that specific moment, at the end of a delightful excursion through my personal gaming history, but my eyes began to tear up.

Video games mean a lot to me, perhaps more than most would expect. I’ve built my entire professional life around them, dedicating my career to celebrating the best and highlighting the worst. As a job, it’s as tiresome and exhausting as some might imagine.