The Xs and Os of IGN's 100 best PlayStation games, from expected colossi to sly surprises

An exclusive first-party fiesta, with some plus-ones permitted.

Collating a “best-of” list, particularly one concerning three digits, is an exercise in supreme subjectivity. Earlier this year, when Apple Music embarked upon a quest to deliver a definitive ranking of the one hundred best albums of all time, both casual consumers and aggressive audiophiles agreed upon its fundamental flaws. Condensing a primal art spanning centuries into the smallest of sample sizes, again qualified through the recent phenomena of a record, would only ever succeed as an examination of the taste of its curators; 23% of the records selected released in the 1990s. Indeed, recency bias was woven into the concept, benefitting albums that asserted themselves near the birth of the iPod, iTunes, and Napster. The form itself is intangibly broad, stratifying itself upon lines of culture, language, and distribution. Thus, Apple’s celebration of the medium was a congratulatory measure, celebrating the efficacy of their algorithm in forging a canon bridging the gap between the pocket money property of Gen X-ers and the everything, everywhere, all at once Zillennial class. You can have Blonde and Songs in the Key of Life as peers in the top ten, just as 1989 (Taylor’s Version) can be considered as better than Revolver. Stripped of chronological context, these albums become competitors to one another, rather than forebearers or loving homages.

This becomes a particularly fraught proposition in examining the history of gaming. Since the medium evolved rapidly within a short period of time, the chasms separating the earliest generations were irreconcilable. After experiencing the speed of Sonic, how could one argue in favour of Excitebike without an initial concession of its technical limitations? Conversely, would titles such as the latter receive an extra half-star for their canny design against their hardware’s shortcomings? Emerging from a green pipe to a fully 3D Mushroom Kingdom felt as though an author had stumbled upon an entirely new tone of voice; graphical analyses of this generation typically focus upon the slight differences in their shadows between platforms. Conceptually, however, the medium has continued to increase in sophistication, from the expansive tabletop tales of Baldur’s Gate 3 to the intertextual aspirations of Alan Wake II. Regardless, it is an entertaining endeavour to fold in your nostalgia and personal preferences to make a compelling case against objective judgement. Yes, Crash Twinsanity might not even be the fifth best entry in its franchise, yet I would argue for its place above the majority of platformers I have played in my time.

To begin, IGN adjudicated Metal Gear Solid as the greatest game in the platform’s history. As an exemplar of PlayStation’s ethos, Metal Gear Solid is indeed an appropriate choice. Hideo Kojima’s called upon a codex of cultural shorthand to deliver a distinctly idiosyncratic, yet accessible adventure: a haptic, emergent experience with a broad range of tones - frustrating, funny, pulpy, and pulsating. The ostentatious cutscenes were choreographed with a grandeur three generations ahead of its contemporaries, hilariously contrasted against one’s finicky inputs and limited pixel count. Should I spotlight the encounter with Psycho Mantis that required players to switch their controller port? None of its rivals toyed with the form with as much severity and silliness as Metal Gear Solid. Still, this leads to a question on the merits of influence against achievement: if God of War (2018) is a more mechanically impressive experience, should it not have seized the top spot from its penultimate standing?

Admittedly, curating a list of this stature will inevitably arouse inconsistencies. For instance, both Final Fantasy VII and Final Fantasy VII: Rebirth chart. One can argue each were crucial contributors to the identity of their platforms, yet their ambitions diverged in direction. Rebirth is indeed a statement unto itself, though its standing as a middle chapter in a trilogy renders it incomparable to its inspirator. That both are featured is a symptom of the PlayStation 5’s malaise, particularly with regard to exclusives. On the notion of assessing each title being of a piece with its platform, Crash Bandicoot is ranked one spot below Ghost of Tsushima. Regarding each as envoys of their respective consoles, Crash Bandicoot is a far greater accomplishment; Naughty Dog hacked the PlayStation’s hardware to best their contemporaries. Of the 1,500 polygons comprising the game, 600 were devoted to Crash alone. Their radical experimentation drew boundaries for the platform its successors would elaborate upon, culminating in a sumptuous cinematic experience in Ghost of Tsushima.

Mighty polygons:

Life reflected on a screen

Through a bandicoot.

For the majority of my gaming hours in 2021, I toyed with Ghost of Tsushima’s photo mode. Quest design notwithstanding, its craft is as loving and curated as a title of this scale can be. Though Crash Bandicoot wove the initial binding threads of Sony’s silver-and-black tapestry, should it be treated with greater reverence? I believe the verdict to be contingent upon the palms of the controller beholder. Returning to Metal Gear Solid, all mainline titles outside of Guns of the Patriots feature - perhaps (momentarily) lost to time due to its lingering exclusivity on the PlayStation 3. Each of its entries has a particular laurel of acclaim to crest upon: Sons of Liberty for its metatextual gaudiness, Snake Eater for its tone, and The Phantom Pain for its perfectly tuned gameplay. Metal Gear Solid, however, exercises each of these elements in equal measure, hence its place atop the pile. Since it splits their differences, Metal Gear Solid is an agreeable medium.

Similarly, Yakuza 0 is Like a Dragon’s lone entrant. With regard to its narrative and lingering cultural notoriety, it is the most respected title in its series. At the risk of presenting myself as a populist, Yakuza: Like a Dragon is my personal pick for the franchise’s finest. Its turn-based tempo and medley of locations - notably in the introduction of Yokohama as a playground of dungeon sewers and gamified garbage collection - is the most effective evocation of Ryu Ga Gotoku’s design philosophy. It is a true modern epic, drawing upon a lineage of JRPGs with a loving nudge and a wink. However, it is an acquired taste, dependent upon one’s prior relationship with the series and its eccentricities. Yakuza 0 is a foundational tale, allowing newcomers to take its humour, serpentining side quests, and fan service in stride; you are assembling the baggage future titles are destined to unpack. Therefore, Yakuza 0 can employ an acute argument against its successors.

You can find the full list here. Please, send your thoughts through; I would love to hear if you have an indie you hold dear above all one hundred of its foes. Codifying a consensus is a tricky practice, both in policy and play. I have to respect the editorial team at IGN for pulling together such a monolithic colossal feat.

Marvel’s Spider-Man 2 over its predecessor is quite a curious choice, though.