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The third of the game’s five chapters in particular is truly wonderful, presenting a warren of secret corridors and a series of interconnected puzzles that are particularly satisfying to solve with the help of night vision goggles that can reveal hidden writing. But sadly the game can’t quite keep up this pace to the end, and despite the odd flash of brilliance, the quality of the final puzzles never quite reaches the height of those in the middle of the game. The plot, too, fizzles out unsatisfyingly, with a solution to the house’s mystery that seems obvious and yet doesn’t make much sense when held up to scrutiny. Still, the idea of a house with conundrums built into its very fabric remains tantalising: I couldn’t help but give my own house a sweep after playing, just on the off-chance there might be a previously unnoticed hidden message or two.

This version of Vertigo portrays women in a way that is seriously difficult to stomach in a post-#MeToo era. Here, women prey on an unsuspecting man using, for instance, sex and hypnosis to lure him in and do him harm. Male trauma is of course absolutely real, but this game doesn’t have the tools to examine it with the required care, and ends up essentially saying #MenToo – and doing a significant disservice to the body of cinematic work that inspires it.

Like any good puzzle game, there is special satisfaction in working out a solution to a conundrum that has stumped you, and that’s the best reward in the game. Call of the Sea ramps up the story towards the end, but I cared far more about the clues than Norah and Harry’s tale. It frustrates as the best puzzles often do, but no solutions feel unearned or gimmicky. This is definitely one for the pencil-chewers to check out.

Though its narrative could use more teeth, as a sensory experience GRIS is hard to beat and the most striking looking game of 2018.

The first big project from a team of Spanish developers working out of an attic in Seville, Crossing Souls is a passionately made ode to an era, even if it occasionally feels underwhelming. From the plucky 2D characters to the synthesised background music to the dated-looking cartoon cutscenes, it captures the 80s perfectly. There is nothing original about this game, but that is why I enjoyed it.

Rime exists in a well-trodden video-game niche, remarkable for neither its concept nor its execution. But it transcends its limitations by tapping into something universal: a child’s feelings of wonder at a strange and sometimes dangerous world. 

Despite the mournful soundtrack and muted colour, it's a game with a mischievous heart too – a rooftop chase scene parodying endless runner Canabalt, complete with frightened doves, providing a standout moment, alongside some 80s LCD handheld game secret collectibles, playable from the title screen. Still, it's a game in which an early sense of delight and intrigue soon turns to weariness, the standout scenes and ideas failing to compensate for an increasing sense of deja vu with each new wall run and puzzle, wrapped in a tired storyline that does little to propel you forward. In the end, it's the zombies that make you flee to the conclusion, rather than the design that draws you towards it – a subtle distinction perhaps, but a crucial one.