Not every villain who opposes Batman can be as iconic as The Joker or Scarecrow, but that doesn't mean they can't be memorable. When crafting the Arkham games, developer Rocksteady knew just how to make the most out of the Dark Knight's diverse rogues gallery, applying smart redesigns where necessary to match the series' darker, grittier atmosphere. It's impressive when B-list bad guys like Calendar Man or The Mad Hatter can be made menacing, and WB Games Montreal later mimicked Rocksteady's style in Arkham Origins to elevate underachievers like Copperhead and Anarky into worthwhile adversaries.

With the release of to pursue new projects. That means there won't be any in-game criminal makeovers for the legions of forgotten weirdos who've made the mistake of trying to terrorize Gotham. The following villains are generally thought to be some of the least threatening crooks Batman has ever beaten up - but I'd like to think that the patented Arkham style could've scored them a spot on the caped crusader's Most Wanted list. Just imagine the possibilities of fighting the virtual, redone version of someone like...

He's ridiculed because: Poor Crazy Quilt. This petty criminal underwent an experimental procedure to restore his vision after going blind, but the results were less than optimal: Crazy Quilt could see again, but only in a wild kaleidoscope of bright colors. This constant, prismatic assault on the eyes drove him insane. Now, he cavorts around Gotham wearing a garish multicolored costume and a sight-enabling helmet, which can also hypnotize his enemies or zap them with lasers. Try as he might, nobody - least of all Batman - seems to take him seriously.

But in an Arkham game: If you've played , which employs dazzling visual effects that fill the screen with neon and corrupt pixels. Imagine seeing Batman transported into a similarly disorienting, intensely hued world when he's zapped by Crazy Quilt's beams of weaponized color. Given how gorgeous the graphics are in Arkham Knight, this kind of experimental aesthetic could look absolutely stunning.

He's ridiculed because: If you think The Riddler overestimates his own importance, just wait ‘til you meet this toga-clad gangster. Ol' Maximillian here is absolutely convinced he's the reincarnation of the Greek gods' head honcho Zeus, which spurred him to rise up through the ranks of organized crime. Even though he's got no superpowers or inherent strengths to speak of, he's somehow persuaded legions of gun-toting goons to obey his every command. Batman: The Animated Series has him fighting back with a thunderbolt-shaped electric rod, which helps makes his motif seem a little less dorky.

But in an Arkham game: Though he never shows up in-game, the unlockable character bios in Arkham Asylum depict Maxie as a beefcake with a deranged sense of superiority who went haywire after too much electroshock therapy. What if all that shock treatment left him with 10 million volts of electricity surging through his veins, not unlike a certain Metal Gear Solid villain by the name of ? It wouldn't be too much of a leap to think yourself a reincarnated god when you can shoot lightning from your fingertips and flash-fry your enemies in an instant.

He's ridiculed because: When you're a supervillain wearing a white leotard spotted with multicolored polka dots, getting any kind of respect is going to be an uphill battle. But don't judge this crook by his cover, because his power - the ability to morph any of the dots on his suit into a wide assortment of weapons - is actually a legitimate threat.

But in an Arkham game: Arkham's thumpy, trademark brand of fistfighting goes a lot deeper than merely punching and countering, thanks to the variety of enemy types you encounter later on. Throughout the series, Batman has had to deal with rioters, mercenaries, and assassins wielding swords, bats, electrified clubs, miniguns, and remote-controlled drones - but no one soldier combines all the tactics needed to deal with these assorted methods of assault. Enter Polka-Dot Man, who could use his suit to become an all-in-one foe that would demand mastery of all your gadgets and counter techniques to take him down.

He's ridiculed because: You know you're in for a treat when an original character is excessively campy even by 1960s, live-action Batman standards. Played by horror legend Vincent Price, Egghead's shtick is that he's obsessed with eggs. That's pretty much it. He's got a gargantuan bald head, wears a suit of white and yellow, chucks hazardous chicken eggs that can emit radar waves or noxious gas, and makes egg puns at every available opportunity. His greatest peace-disturbing accomplishment was instigating a food fight with Batman and Robin, who then proceeded to smash his face with eggs and fists.

But in an Arkham game: Let's go extra dark and disturbing with this one. Instead of chicken eggs, this twisted Egghead would be obsessed with stem cell research, plundering human embryos from Gotham's hospitals to fuel his own research for developing a genetically perfect henchman. Of course, there'd be many failures along the way - leading to an army of horrific, mutated fetuses viciously crawling at Batman like the . It'd be a scene right up there in the 'mind-warpingly disturbing' department as the infant Crawlers from Dead Space 2.

He's ridiculed because: Just look at him. Charles Brown (likely a reference to the kite-tormented protagonist of the Peanuts comic strip) decided that the best way to distinguish himself in Gotham's crime community was to soar through the air on a gigantic glider and wield miniature kites as projectile weapons. Without any updrafts or wide-open spaces surrounding the things he wishes to steal, Kite Man is completely useless. Unless you feel threatened whenever you hear "Let's Go Fly a Kite" from Mary Poppins, Kite Man is about as intimidating as, well, a kite.

But in an Arkham game: Batman's gone up against other high-flyers in the Arkham series, like Firefly and [minor Arkham Knight spoiler redacted], but they've never involved any test of your combat abilities. The AR flight challenges push your cape-gliding skills to their limits, but their presentation is simply boring. A fight against Kite Man could address both problems, testing your capacity for sharp aerial maneuvers while you fistfight in midair, weaving between Gotham's skyscrapers and divebombing to avoid Kite Man's attacks.

He's ridiculed because: Just as Bizarro is the polar opposite of Superman, Batzarro is the cartoonish negative of the Dark Knight. For starters, he wields dual pistols (which he may have used to shoot his own parents), calls himself the World's Worst Detective, and... has fangs and no eyes, for some reason. In an amusing flip of Batman's constant inner monologuing, Batzarro usually just blurts out whatever he's thinking (all styled with the same grating 'opposite day logic' as Bizarro-speak). Unfortunately, he's a little too goofy for many readers' tastes.

But in an Arkham game: The Arkham series rarely gets to flex its humorous muscles - but as your exchangers with The Riddler (and, on occasion, The Joker) prove, there's value to having bits of laugh-out-loud comedy amidst all the doom and gloom. As with his counterpart Bizarro, Batzarro's more unpredictable than outright evil, causing chaos whenever he tries to assist his idol Batman. Battling Batzarro could be a boss fight where you have to subdue him and a group of thugs before he kills them in an attempt to help out, all while he spouts ludicrous, laughable dialogue.

He's ridiculed because: Ever see a kid getting picked on because they take too much pride in their fancy calculator? Calculator (the Batman villain) takes that kind of regrettable preoccupation with number-crunching to the nth degree. His master plan revolved around preliminary failure: Calculator would dress up like a TI-83, get beaten to a pulp by various superheroes, then use his costume to analyze the do-gooder's fighting style in the hopes that he'd outsmart them the second time around. Unfortunately for his schemes, those calculations never seemed to pan out.

But in an Arkham game: Calculator has turned his criminal life around in the comics as of late, ditching the geeky getup for a job as a tech-savvy information broker and hacker for the criminal underworld. That effectively makes him the evil equivalent of Batman's close ally Oracle, who plays an important role in the Arkham games. Going up against an in-game Calculator might involve counter-hacking his attempts to take over the Batcomputer, assisting Oracle to help shut him out or misdirect the Calculator away from crucial intelligence related to the Dark Knight's next move.

He's ridiculed because: With a name like that, you might be expecting a terrifying Grim Reaper type who wields a scythe, but no - he's just a guy dressed like a skeleton who's really good at playing dead. By inducing a full-body yoga trance, Lord Death Man can fake his own passing, which apparently aids him in committing crimes. Then, somehow, he developed the power to actually reanimate himself after taking fatal damage. Though he's not much of a supervillain, you've got to give him points for sheer willpower.

But in an Arkham game: Lord Death Man's unique ability could push Batman to the limits of his 'no killing' rule (even more than running over thugs on the streets of Arkham Knight). LDM could create a scenario in which Batman would have no choice but to inflict lethal harm in order to prevent further calamity, forcing the Dark Knight to 'kill' him with the knowledge that it wouldn't take (this is actually something that The Joker has tried in the past). It'd also make for a pretty memorable 'Gotcha!' moment when Lord Death Man miraculously shows up later in the game.

As video games continue to mature as a medium, they become more adept at reaching beyond their confines as mere entertainment. Sometimes they empower us, other times they challenge us, and, rarely, they move us. But packing an emotional punch is no easy task; it requires a carefully choreographed assault designed to dismantle our defenses and strike us where we are most vulnerable. One misstep and the whole effort crumbles.

Telling a story that can reduce a you to tears is quite a feat, but working that climax into the opening hour of a game requires a whole new level of mastery. You have to step outside of the box and tell a new kind of story, one that surprises as much as it devastates. You must dig deeper to find the humanity in your characters, so that when they suffer, we suffer too. If you're on the hunt for some games that'll get you misty-eyed before you've even settled into your chair, then look no further.

Kids do dumb things. But having your harmless childish antics result in the death of your only parent is a cruel twist. As children, we tend to think our parents are invincible, that they will always be there to care for us. But as Oliver's mother collapses to the ground grasping her chest, it reminds us all that, sometimes, the universe has other plans.

But what makes 's prologue so heart-rending is the moment where Oliver finally succumbs to his grief. As Joe Hisaishi's moving soundtrack begins to swell, Oliver clutches a doll his mother made for him and remembers the sweet, yet inconsequential, moment she gave it to him before heading to work. Watching Oliver break into tears is hard to watch, because it forces us to reflect on the same fleeting moments that we're left with when the ones we love are lost to us forever. When people die, they leave holes in our lives, but how can a boy as young as Oliver ever expect to fill the space left by his mother?

Sometimes love is absolutely terrifying. It makes you vulnerable and, in the worst cases, can opens you up to immeasurable pain of loss. But Joel never had a choice not to love his daughter, Sarah. And he never had a choice when the outbreak of a zombie-like infestation drove them from their home and into the iron sights of a merciless soldier.

is deserving of praise for its harrowing vision, but never was that vision more realized than in the quiet moment of a father cradling his fatally wounded daughter. Dying in someone's arms has become a cliche, but this wasn't a time for composed last words. Instead, it was the heart-dropping panic of a dad clutching his dying baby-girl, barely able to utter a single word of comfort as she slips away. Few things in video games have ever been as haunting. There was no peace, no quiet passing, just a little girl who didn't want to die and a father not ready to let her go.

Seeing the future is as much a blessing as it is a curse. For Shulk, the protagonist, it often acts as a painful reminder of just how helpless he can be. Even with the knowledge of the future, he finds himself unable to change its course. That helplessness, however, was never more realized than as he watched, incapacitated, as his best friend Fiora was ruthlessly murdered and his hometown destroyed.

Fiora's death is painful because we took her for granted. In life, we wrongfully expect that bad things only happen to bad people, and, in a way, Xenoblade Chronicles lulls us into that line of thinking. It placates us with quiet moments between friends, and the nurtured expectation of a peaceful existence. The moment Fiora's bloodcurdling scream is silenced by the blade, we, like Shulk, realize how delicate peace truly is. Tragedy doesn't discriminate. It doesn't care if you're selfless or kind. Tragedy only cares if you have something to lose. And, as Xenoblade Chronicles shows us, we all do.

No one ever comprehends true fear until they become a parent; to deal with the creeping dread that, like a monster under your bed, waits until your mind is quiet before ambushing you with the terrifying cruelty of the world your child belongs to. But to see those nightmares played out before your very eyes, to stand neutered and helpless as death whisks that child away, is a pain that no one should suffer. But in the opening moments of Heavy Rain, you experience just that.

Chasing your son, Jason, through a mall is a debilitating insight into that boiling dread. As you fumble awkwardly through crowds, it's easy to imagine you are Ethan Mars. You feel his panic as if it is your panic. By the time you find Jason, just in time to see him carelessly step in front of traffic, you're so emotionally raw and agitated that it's impossible to separate yourself from what is happening on the screen. For that brief moment, you feel Ethan's loss as if it was your loss.

After the harrowing conclusion to Season 1, it's hard not to step into The Walking Dead: Season 2 with your guard up. Like Clementine, you have internalized the lesson that no one is safe. In a world as barbarous as this one, emotional attachment is just another weakness. It's a terrible sacrifice to choose between your humanity and your survival, but The Walking Dead asks it of you again and again.

But just when you think The Walking Dead can no longer surprise you, it hits you with an emotional sucker-punch. Without even a moment to catch your breath between the shocking conclusion to Season 1 and the span of time between Season 2, Clementine is thrust back into the heart of tragedy. Within the blink of an eye, a simple robbery goes wrong, leaving Clementine and the very pregnant Christa to pick up the pieces. But that lingering shot of Clementine's empty eyes taking in the brutality is what brings it all home: any shred of innocence she had left is now certainly gone and there is nothing you can do.

While some games elicit an emotional reaction through sweeping musical scores or tender moments of humanity, Homefront is a literal tour de savage force, stripping you emotionally naked and hosing you down with its merciless prologue - and all you can do is watch. Its premise of North Korea invading the United States might seem farfetched, but it's only the backdrop for a sobering look at the horrors of military occupation.

As the prison bus you're confined to makes its way through the neighborhood, your window becomes a tapestry of brutality: families torn apart, people beaten to death before your eyes, rows of innocents chained and gagged. Rounding the corner, all of that crumbles beneath the weight of a single moment. A mother and father, up against a wall, calmly reassuring their baby boy that everything will be okay. But as two gunshots crack, and their bodies slump lifelessly before their screaming child, all we can do is watch. Shooters empower us to intervene, to take command. But sitting on that bus, hands bound, we are powerless - stripped of all agency.

"Nothing gold can stay," wrote Robert Frost. As the amber hues of the forest shifted to rancid brown, those words are brought to life in heartbreaking clarity. Whisked away one night by a storm, the adorably nimble Ori is discovered by the pudgy Naru, and the two become fast friends.

The short, yet painful, prologue employs a masterful use of visual storytelling, seeing you literally walk through a season's worth of memories in the span of minutes. Ori and Naru's friendship is beautifully resilient, even when the forest they inhabit slowly withers and both risk starvation. But that loving selflessness is never more apparent than when Naru gives Ori the last apple, dismissing her own starvation with a playful wave of her furry hand. will enchant you with its breathtaking storybook visuals and sweeping musical score, but it's the quiet moment where the fox-like Ori settles onto the still and silent body of his best friend Naru that remains long after the credits have rolled.

I won't blame you if you felt caught off guard by these heart-breaking prologues. Most of us expect to invest a few hours in a game before it reduces us to a quivering pile of tears and sobs, but there's a lot that can be said about a game that isn't afraid to come out swinging. As we only begin to explore the potential of the medium, we also come to grasp new, and sometimes heartbreaking, ways of telling a story.

As video games continue to mature as a medium, they become more adept at reaching beyond their confines as mere entertainment. Sometimes they empower us, other times they challenge us, and, rarely, they move us. But packing an emotional punch is no easy task; it requires a carefully choreographed assault designed to dismantle our defenses and strike us where we are most vulnerable. One misstep and the whole effort crumbles.

Telling a story that can reduce a you to tears is quite a feat, but working that climax into the opening hour of a game requires a whole new level of mastery. You have to step outside of the box and tell a new kind of story, one that surprises as much as it devastates. You must dig deeper to find the humanity in your characters, so that when they suffer, we suffer too. If you're on the hunt for some games that'll get you misty-eyed before you've even settled into your chair, then look no further.

Kids do dumb things. But having your harmless childish antics result in the death of your only parent is a cruel twist. As children, we tend to think our parents are invincible, that they will always be there to care for us. But as Oliver's mother collapses to the ground grasping her chest, it reminds us all that, sometimes, the universe has other plans.

But what makes 's prologue so heart-rending is the moment where Oliver finally succumbs to his grief. As Joe Hisaishi's moving soundtrack begins to swell, Oliver clutches a doll his mother made for him and remembers the sweet, yet inconsequential, moment she gave it to him before heading to work. Watching Oliver break into tears is hard to watch, because it forces us to reflect on the same fleeting moments that we're left with when the ones we love are lost to us forever. When people die, they leave holes in our lives, but how can a boy as young as Oliver ever expect to fill the space left by his mother?

Sometimes love is absolutely terrifying. It makes you vulnerable and, in the worst cases, can opens you up to immeasurable pain of loss. But Joel never had a choice not to love his daughter, Sarah. And he never had a choice when the outbreak of a zombie-like infestation drove them from their home and into the iron sights of a merciless soldier.

is deserving of praise for its harrowing vision, but never was that vision more realized than in the quiet moment of a father cradling his fatally wounded daughter. Dying in someone's arms has become a cliche, but this wasn't a time for composed last words. Instead, it was the heart-dropping panic of a dad clutching his dying baby-girl, barely able to utter a single word of comfort as she slips away. Few things in video games have ever been as haunting. There was no peace, no quiet passing, just a little girl who didn't want to die and a father not ready to let her go.

Seeing the future is as much a blessing as it is a curse. For Shulk, the protagonist, it often acts as a painful reminder of just how helpless he can be. Even with the knowledge of the future, he finds himself unable to change its course. That helplessness, however, was never more realized than as he watched, incapacitated, as his best friend Fiora was ruthlessly murdered and his hometown destroyed.

Fiora's death is painful because we took her for granted. In life, we wrongfully expect that bad things only happen to bad people, and, in a way, Xenoblade Chronicles lulls us into that line of thinking. It placates us with quiet moments between friends, and the nurtured expectation of a peaceful existence. The moment Fiora's bloodcurdling scream is silenced by the blade, we, like Shulk, realize how delicate peace truly is. Tragedy doesn't discriminate. It doesn't care if you're selfless or kind. Tragedy only cares if you have something to lose. And, as Xenoblade Chronicles shows us, we all do.

No one ever comprehends true fear until they become a parent; to deal with the creeping dread that, like a monster under your bed, waits until your mind is quiet before ambushing you with the terrifying cruelty of the world your child belongs to. But to see those nightmares played out before your very eyes, to stand neutered and helpless as death whisks that child away, is a pain that no one should suffer. But in the opening moments of Heavy Rain, you experience just that.

Chasing your son, Jason, through a mall is a debilitating insight into that boiling dread. As you fumble awkwardly through crowds, it's easy to imagine you are Ethan Mars. You feel his panic as if it is your panic. By the time you find Jason, just in time to see him carelessly step in front of traffic, you're so emotionally raw and agitated that it's impossible to separate yourself from what is happening on the screen. For that brief moment, you feel Ethan's loss as if it was your loss.

After the harrowing conclusion to Season 1, it's hard not to step into The Walking Dead: Season 2 with your guard up. Like Clementine, you have internalized the lesson that no one is safe. In a world as barbarous as this one, emotional attachment is just another weakness. It's a terrible sacrifice to choose between your humanity and your survival, but The Walking Dead asks it of you again and again.

But just when you think The Walking Dead can no longer surprise you, it hits you with an emotional sucker-punch. Without even a moment to catch your breath between the shocking conclusion to Season 1 and the span of time between Season 2, Clementine is thrust back into the heart of tragedy. Within the blink of an eye, a simple robbery goes wrong, leaving Clementine and the very pregnant Christa to pick up the pieces. But that lingering shot of Clementine's empty eyes taking in the brutality is what brings it all home: any shred of innocence she had left is now certainly gone and there is nothing you can do.

While some games elicit an emotional reaction through sweeping musical scores or tender moments of humanity, Homefront is a literal tour de savage force, stripping you emotionally naked and hosing you down with its merciless prologue - and all you can do is watch. Its premise of North Korea invading the United States might seem farfetched, but it's only the backdrop for a sobering look at the horrors of military occupation.

As the prison bus you're confined to makes its way through the neighborhood, your window becomes a tapestry of brutality: families torn apart, people beaten to death before your eyes, rows of innocents chained and gagged. Rounding the corner, all of that crumbles beneath the weight of a single moment. A mother and father, up against a wall, calmly reassuring their baby boy that everything will be okay. But as two gunshots crack, and their bodies slump lifelessly before their screaming child, all we can do is watch. Shooters empower us to intervene, to take command. But sitting on that bus, hands bound, we are powerless - stripped of all agency.

"Nothing gold can stay," wrote Robert Frost. As the amber hues of the forest shifted to rancid brown, those words are brought to life in heartbreaking clarity. Whisked away one night by a storm, the adorably nimble Ori is discovered by the pudgy Naru, and the two become fast friends.

The short, yet painful, prologue employs a masterful use of visual storytelling, seeing you literally walk through a season's worth of memories in the span of minutes. Ori and Naru's friendship is beautifully resilient, even when the forest they inhabit slowly withers and both risk starvation. But that loving selflessness is never more apparent than when Naru gives Ori the last apple, dismissing her own starvation with a playful wave of her furry hand. will enchant you with its breathtaking storybook visuals and sweeping musical score, but it's the quiet moment where the fox-like Ori settles onto the still and silent body of his best friend Naru that remains long after the credits have rolled.

I won't blame you if you felt caught off guard by these heart-breaking prologues. Most of us expect to invest a few hours in a game before it reduces us to a quivering pile of tears and sobs, but there's a lot that can be said about a game that isn't afraid to come out swinging. As we only begin to explore the potential of the medium, we also come to grasp new, and sometimes heartbreaking, ways of telling a story.