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Looking Back at Thief: The Dark Project

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I remember playing Thief II: The Metal Age about 10 years ago and enjoying it quite a bit. Alas, I only played a few levels before something drew me away from it. I mostly remember breaking into mansions, warehouses, and slinking through the city streets on my noble quest to liberate as much gold as possible from the city's aristocratic elite. I thought I knew what I was getting into by jumping back into the series where it at all started, with Thief: The Dark Project; I was pretty surprised, then, when I went into the first game and found myself descending into giant crypts and haunted cathedrals to sneak past and, more often, fight off platoons of undead zombies and skeletons, among other sinister, twisted monstrosities.

Developed by Looking Glass Studios and released in 1998, Thief: The Dark Project was a pioneer of first-person stealth gaming. Its design was years ahead of its time, with the advanced lighting and three-dimensional sound effects offering an unprecedented level of immersive feedback for would-be thieves trying to hide in the shadows and avoid detection. It's impressive, really, how well it holds up after all this time; games have come a long way in the past 17 years, and yet modern stealth games really aren't that much more sophisticated than Thief. It would not be that ridiculous to claim that no other game has handled stealth as well as the original Thief, with the possible exception of Thief II, but that's a discussion for another article. For now, it's time to take a look at Thief: The Dark Project (the Gold Edition, specifically) to figure out what's good and what's not good with it.

First things first: the stealth mechanics. Stealth in Thief works like you'd expect from any stealth game at this point; crouch low to the ground, walk instead of run, and stay out of patrolling guards' line of sight. Hide behind obstacles if need be, and lean around the corner to check if the coast is clear before you move. Toss objects in the other direction to distract guards. Sneak up behind an enemy and plunk him in the back for a non-lethal knockout. Carry his unconscious body to a corner somewhere so that other guards won't stumble on it and go into high alert.


Where things get a bit different in Thief is the lighting. Avoiding line of sight is important, but even more important is staying in the shadows; a guard can be looking right at you, but won't actually notice you if you're concealed by complete darkness. That's usually pretty easy to do, because the whole game takes place at night, with only scattered torches and electric lamps breaking up the darkness. Those lights create gradient shadows of their own; the closer you get to a light source, the more visible you become. From far away, a guard might not notice if you're in that grey area between light and darkness, but at closer distances, he'll be able to spot you. The game's iconic "light gem," displayed in the bottom center of the screen, progressively fills up with light as you move into the light, thus giving you constant, perfect feedback on your visibility.

Thief's other major twist on the now tried-and-true stealth formula is in monitoring the sounds your footsteps make on different surfaces. Soft surfaces like grass and carpet mute your footsteps enough that you can run up behind enemies without them noticing, while harder surfaces like tile or metal make your footsteps click and clank loud enough for guards to hear. You'd think that Garrett -- the game's protagonist, a skilled, professional thief -- would wear soft-soled shoes that would allow him to sneak around more effectively, but this is a case where gameplay mechanics take priority over logical sense, and the footsteps add so much extra depth to the gameplay that just isn't there in other stealth games, because it matters how you approach guards and avoid patrol routes in different situations, and it forces you to adapt your strategies to your environment.

One of the levels, for instance, has marble floors almost everywhere, with thin slivers of runway carpet running down the center of the hallways, broken up at corners and intersections. Guards patrol up and down the hallways, and it takes so much more timing and precision to take them out because there's so little soft ground for you to move upon. In one particular situation, I was sneaking up behind a guard in a grassy exterior planning to knock him out, and stepped onto a metal plate; the guard heard the noise, turned around, and caught me. The game punished me for not paying enough attention to my surroundings, which is just a wonderful feeling to know that the game expects you to be mindful of these things and make intelligent decisions about what you do.


As with most stealth games, Thief gives you several tools to assist with your sneakery. The most prominent of these tools are water arrows, which you can fire to douse torches or to wash away puddles of blood. Moss arrows can be fired onto the floor to create soft patches of moss that mute your footsteps. Noisemaker arrows create a loud, constant ringing noise that draws all guards from a wide radius to inspect the noise. Regular broadhead arrows are used primarily as a weapon for killing distant enemies, but can also be used to distract local guards by firing the arrow away from the guard's patrol route. Gas arrows knock guards unconscious on contact. Rope arrows can be fired into wooden structures to lower a rope you can climb to higher ledges. Additionally, you have things like flashbombs, gas mines, and speed potions in your potential arsenal, all of which should be self-explanatory.

With all these great tools, what challenge would the game be without a little resource management? In most cases, you don't have access to all of these items in a single level, and the ones you do have are usually in limited supply. There might, for instance, be 40 or more light sources in a level, but you'll have only six water arrows at your disposal. Getting through the level successfully, then, requires you to be diligent with how you spend your limited supplies. Each room offers a personal challenge that makes you think and evaluate your options: can I get through this without using my arrows? And when a guard suddenly walks into the room and you find yourself sitting in plain view of a fireplace, it creates quite the adrenaline rush as you try to figure out if you have time to move into the shadows, or if you should bite the bullet and spend a water arrow dousing the fireplace.

When it comes to stealth games, enemy AI needs to have a pretty specific balance of stupidity and intelligence. On the one hand, they need to be observant enough that they can detect you in a realistic, believable way, and to ensure that there's some element of tension and challenge in avoiding detection; on the other hand, they need to be lenient enough that you can make minor mistakes without blowing the entire mission or resorting to constant save-scumming. The guards in Thief strike that balance pretty well. They're smart enough that they'll take note if they see a body, or an open door or suspicious bloodstain, or if they hear you running, or if they catch a short glimpse of you, but they won't immediately go into full alert; rather, they'll start searching for you and give up after a short while. This gives you enough of a window to correct your mistakes, and also allows for a lot of tension as they try to sniff you out while you slink away in the shadows, mere feet away.


The game's use of three-dimensional sound is also a tremendous aid in helping you keep track of where guards are, even if you can't see them. When a guard walks down a hallway, you can hear his footsteps echoing through the building, and thanks to the sound design, you can tell where he is, how far away he is, and which direction he's going. Even without using headphones or a full surround sound system, and just running the game with basic stereo speakers, I was easily able to pinpoint left or right, up or down. The surface of the floor affects the sound of the guards' footsteps just as much as it affects your own, so that creates an equal an opposite reaction: soft surfaces help you stay quiet, but it also makes it a bit harder to hear guards moving about, and hard surfaces make it harder for you to stay quiet, but make it easy to tell where guards are. You can also hear them coughing, whistling, or muttering to themselves, or eavesdrop on entire conversations.

The game is broken into 15 missions, each of which places you in a unique map with a different set of objectives. Higher difficulties, in true old school fashion, concern themselves less with simply making the game harder, but rather add more objectives and change the level composition to instill a more dynamic, natural challenge while adding a ton of replay value. Before each mission, you're given a chance to buy extra supplies, like more arrows or healing potions, with the money you earned in the previous mission. Specific objectives vary from mission to mission, but one of your goals is almost always "steal as much stuff as possible." The fact that everything you steal turns into real money that you can spend to improve your thievery in the next mission gives you a lot of incentive to actually explore the maps as much as possible.

Even though the game is broken up as a series of completely separate missions, it does a pretty good job of conveying a persistent world and story. It helps that your earnings carry over to the next mission when you're buying more gear, but it also helps that the game has you revisit a handful of familiar locations over the course of its 15 missions. Walking about the city streets in certain missions, it's obvious that you're only ever playing in a closed-off section that only exists for the purpose of that mission, but it does give you at least a sense that you're part of a bigger scene. The story, meanwhile, takes a while to get going, but after the sixth mission, your objectives start to reflect an on-going, over-arching goal. And it's pretty neat how the game implements dynamic mission objectives that change mid-mission, throwing you for a loop on occasion and leading you in unexpected directions.


Most mission maps are somewhat open-ended, allowing you to choose how you'll approach your objectives and explore the map. Missions like the Bonehoard Crypt, the Thieves' Guild, the Haunted Cathedral, and the Lost City have huge, sprawling maps with a ton of places to explore; they're so big and complicated that it's a challenge simply figuring out how you get from one area to another. You get an in-game map for each mission, but these are always mere approximations of the level's layout; in order to navigate successfully (and not get lost, in the case of the larger maps), you have to use your compass to figure out how areas are positioned relative to one another, and pay really close attention to your surroundings so that you can actually learn the map's layout by committing what you see to memory.

Completing each of the "steal as much stuff as possible" objectives requires you to explore every inch of the maps, particularly on higher difficulties where you're expected to steal a higher value of stuff. It's here where the level design impresses most, because there are a ton of hidden nuances to discover, from secret rooms that can only be accessed if you notice that a section of a wall looks slightly different, or if you do something completely unexpected like crawling inside of a fireplace. In most cases, these secrets feel pretty natural; they don't stand out or call attention to themselves like in other games that want you to realize "hey, this is a secret area." If you're exploring a dilapidated ruin and see a crack in the wall, you might think nothing of it, but if you peer closer, you might just realize you can stick your arm through and grab a couple extra water arrows. Exploration rewards curiosity and tempts you to poke your nose everywhere you can. Being able to jump and climb freely offers you so much freedom to explore off the beaten path, and the inclusion of rope arrows gets you thinking even further outside the box.

Although many of the maps are impressively large and complex, some of them feel needlessly massive and convoluted. The sixth mission, when you infiltrate the local thieves' guild, takes place largely underground and has you navigating dozens of similar-looking, cramped tunnels and sewer systems that all lead to different areas and never let you see more than a few yards ahead of yourself at any given moment. It felt almost impossible to keep track of where I was; I spent over two hours doing what probably could be accomplished in 30 minutes, if you know what you're doing, because I was so lost that I was literally walking in circles. A lot of maps are apt to give you three-to-five branching paths, but you have no idea how far each one goes until you explore it in its fullest; you might arbitrarily pick one of them and eventually find yourself on the complete opposite side of the level needing an item you presumably would've found in one of the other paths if you'd gone that way first, instead, which can lead to a lot of backtracking and niggling doubt about what you may have missed. It can can get awfully tedious at times.


But man, some of the levels are just plain cool. The Bonehoard crypt with its dark, spooky atmosphere, the traps that keep you on your guard, and the cavernous chambers that overwhelm you with their sheer volume; Constantine's mansion, where you're tasked with stealing a prized sword, but as you climb higher into the mansion's upper floors you find yourself in a disturbing haunted house, with hallways that are literally twisted, rooms that are sideways or upside, optical illusions, false doors, doors that lead nowhere, and all other kinds of weird things; the Mage's Tower, where you first have to infiltrate the central complex and then ascend the four elemental-themed towers, swimming underwater, navigating underground tunnels, riding platforms through the air, and dodging volcanic lava plates; and the return to the Cathedral, with its terrifying undead enemies and unsettling sound effects, and the mission sequence in the second half where you're performing a ritual to put a ghost to rest.

As I mentioned at the top of the article, I wasn't expecting anything like this at all, which absolutely blew my mind as I went through the game and kept discovering all of these weird, crazy things. I mean, Thief II, from what I played, was all about fairly ordinary stealth scenarios, trying to sneak past and steal stuff from ordinary human patrols. There was none of this dark, supernatural stuff going on -- and yet, Thief: The Dark Project has you dealing with zombies and flying skulls as early as the second mission, when you're trying to infiltrate the Cragscleft prison through the abandoned mines. The very next mission has you descending into a haunted crypt. Later on, you're dealing with giant bipedal lizard monsters, humanoid crab-men, fire elementals, ghostly apparitions, and armor-clad skeletal warriors, The enemies get even more bizarre as even more outlandish things get introduced in the final levels.

The game is split roughly in half between missions that involve the typical "break into a guarded location and steal something" scenarios, where you're dealing exclusively with human patrols, and the more exotic scenarios that lean almost more towards survival-horror, where you're sneaking past and often fighting undead monsters on your quest to steal something from a more ominous, haunted location. Personally, I enjoyed the change of pace that came with alternating these types of scenarios, and the horror fan in me certainly appreciated the increased tension that came with the creepier atmospheres and more sinister enemies. The stealth gameplay works a lot better, however, when you're going up against innocent guards in a mansion; you feel more like a burglar breaking into someplace you shouldn't be, trying to leave no trace you were there, whereas the supernatural levels make you feel like a generic rogue in a fantasy action-adventure game.


I'm more inclined, for instance, to buy into the stealth gameplay and play peacefully, avoiding guards as much as I can and only knocking people out when I have to, when I'm going up against human opponents, because I'm not actually fond of murdering people in these types of games. In the supernatural levels, I have no qualms with killing zombies, or skeleton warriors, or acid-spewing bipedal lizard monsters -- it's my natural instinct, in fact. In the last few levels, when the game starts going off the rails towards its crazy demonic climax, I gave up on stealth entirely and just started killing everything in sight, because it was faster and easier than trying to sneak past everything -- in some cases, it was nearly impossible because of how damn many there were. And again, it felt like the more natural, appropriate thing to do, considering they're monsters spawned by a demon for the sole purpose of spreading destruction throughout the human world.

Whereas all of the stealth controls and gameplay feel incredibly smooth and responsive, Thief's combat really shows its age, and it hasn't aged well. There are some good ideas at work, here, like manually aiming your crosshair on either side of an enemy to do a left or right horizontal slash, or holding a button to hold your sword out in a parry stance and having to manually aim to block attacks, or how if an enemy attacks at the same time as you and your swords collide, then both attacks clang and miss. But the whole thing is sluggishly imprecise, and comes off feeling almost unbearably clunky. The delay between when you click to attack and when the attack actually goes through is enough that you have to fall into the classic routine of moving in and out of the enemy's melee range as if you're in a synchronized dance instead of a fight, and if you decide to click and hold the attack to charge up for a stronger hit, then the delay feels even clunkier.


Other elements of the controls feel equally dated and clunky. Cycling through inventory items is a chore, and I hate how the game "equips" items to your active use slot when you pick them up because of how often I would accidentally drink a health potion or fire a flashbomb when I was trying to open a door or pick something else up. Moving around the levels is, on occasion, troublesome; it's a little too easy to get caught on terrain, and you'll sometimes bounce off of structures you should easily be able to grab onto and mantle. Sometimes when you try to sneak up stairs, the game treats them like you're walking into a wall, and you likewise get caught all too frequently on enemy corpses, unable to walk over them. If you're sneaking up to an enemy planning to knock them out, every time you charge the attack will force you to stand up, and then you have to hit the crouch button immediately.

So, does Thief: The Dark Project still hold up nearly 20 years later? I played it for the first time ever and really enjoyed it -- most of its mechanics are solid, and it offers a genuinely exciting experience for anyone who's a fan of stealth games. I particularly enjoyed how much it made me think, and how it rewarded my ingenuity and penalized my recklessness. As a fan of exploration and horror games, Thief: The Dark Project scratched a few extra itches I wasn't even expecting. There's a reason this game (and its sequel) consistently appear near the top of modern "best stealth games of all time" lists; sure, it shows its age in a few areas, but the overall experience is timeless, and definitely worth playing if you fancy smart games.

Thief 1 vs Thief 2: Which is Better?

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Thief II: The Metal Age is technically a sequel -- it's in the name, after all -- but it's so much like its predecessor, Thief: The Dark Project, that it doesn't really feel like a sequel. It's basically the same game, but with 15 new missions, a couple new items, and a few technical upgrades to the engine. I guess Looking Glass Studios realized they had a pretty good formula on their hands, and chose not to do anything too extravagant with the sequel. The two games are so fundamentally similar that people tend to lump them together as one collective entity, because if you like one, then you'll like other.

And yet, people definitely have their preferences, with some people liking Thief 1 more for its darker supernatural atmosphere, and others liking Thief 2 more for its more robust level design. Some people find the undead enemies in Thief 1 to be a turn off, while others think the same of the robotic enemies in Thief 2. Having played Thief 2 immediately after finishing Thief 1, there are certain things I like and dislike about it; it's a tough call trying to pick one over the other.

I'm not going to treat this article as a stand-alone review of Thief 2, because that would feel mostly redundant, since I've already covered all of the basics in my review of Thief: The Dark Project. Most of what I wrote in that article applies to Thief 2 as well, so I'd recommend you start there so you have an idea of my thoughts going into this review. I'm also not going to make this a direct side-by-side, in-depth comparison article, either, because the games are so similar I can't talk at much length about how they differ. Rather, this review will be a more simple look at Thief 2 and, in general, how it stacks up to its predecessor.

Like I mentioned above, Thief 2 is basically the same game as Thief 1, but with more of an emphasis on the human element -- breaking into structures like banks, warehouses, and mansions, and trying to avoid detection from human guards. Whereas Thief 1 was fairly evenly split between these types of human levels and supernatural levels -- ones where you break into crypts, haunted cathedrals, ancient cities, and fun-house mansions and fight zombies, skeletal warriors, fire elementals, etc -- Thief 2 consists almost entirely of human levels. There's exactly one supernatural level in the entire game, and only a few undead enemies that appear well off of the beaten track in a handful of other levels.


I can certainly understand why they made the change; after all, I mentioned in my own review of Thief 1 that the stealth system simply works better in those human-centric levels that challenged you to play like a, well, thief, as opposed to the supernatural levels which made you play more like an adventurer rogue. I kind of liked those supernatural levels, however, because they added a lot of variety to the game, both in terms of atmosphere and gameplay, since the types of places you visited were often radically different from one another, and fighting undead enemies offered a nice change of pace from time to time. As a horror fan, I also liked the scarier, creepier atmospheres those levels instilled.

The levels in Thief 2, on the other hand, feel relatively samey because they all take place in fortified human structures. Four missions have you break into regal mansions; three levels have you break into religious cult buildings; three missions have you break into public service buildings; two levels have you slink through the city streets. That means 12 of the game's 15 missions have a strong, similar feel to at least one other mission, though in reality even these categories feel somewhat similar to one another (a bank, a mansion, and a mechanist fortress all feel kind of similar to one another, in terms of both aesthetics and gameplay). Two of the maps are even reused for later missions, and one is recycled from Thief 1.

That leaves only a handful of truly memorable maps in the entire game. I finished Thief 1 almost two weeks ago and can still vividly remember the Bonehoard crypt, the mage's towers, the opera house, Constantine's mansion, the haunted cathedral, and the ancient city. I finished Thief 2 yesterday, and only three levels stand out in my mind (for good reasons, anyway): (1) the one where you follow someone through a portal and end up in a pagan village in the woods, only to go through another portal and end up in the Maw of Chaos, the game's only supernatural level; (2) the one that has you running along the city's rooftops on your way to a mechanist tower; and (3) the one that sends you to an abandoned light house, where you descend via a secret elevator to a submarine bay and board the submarine itself.


Part of the reason the levels feels so similar to one another is because you spend 90% of the game dealing with the same enemies: human guards and combat robots. You might fight a spider every now and then, and a handful of levels face you with a couple zombies, haunts, or ghosts, but these are all in hidden areas and have no real impact on the mission. The undead enemies in Thief 1 were more prominent, but also alternated with human enemies for variety, as opposed to the robots in Thief 2 that almost always appear alongside human enemies. Thief 1 also threw more overall variety at you, with fire elementals, human mages, burrick lizards, and craymen (not to mention, more spiders) that would pop up during various missions.

Apparently enough people complained about the undead enemies in Thief 1, feeling that they took away from the game's intended burglary angle, or that they were too annoying or immersion-breaking, and so Looking Glass removed that focus from the game entirely, replacing them with things that, I feel, are actually worse -- cameras, automated turrets, and robots. I, for one, really liked Thief 1's dark fantasy, light horror atmosphere; Thief 2 abandons this theme altogether and instead goes for a more steampunk vibe, which I would normally enjoy, but it makes Thief 2 feel just a little too modern, and therefore like so many other stealth games that have come out since. The bank level, for instance, doesn't look or feel like a medieval fantasy bank at all; it feels like any generic bank you'd find in any other game.

The steampunk stuff does change the gameplay up just a bit, however, which I suppose can be a good thing. Cameras and turrets need to be avoided entirely until you can find a control station to disable them, and robots can't be knocked out with the blackjack like human enemies; rather, you need to fire a water arrow on their backside, which is actually kind of similar to how you kill zombies in Thief 1. Some people thought the zombies in Thief 1 were annoying, but at least you could sneak past them fairly easily -- the patrolling combat bots in Thief 2 are so hyper-alert that they can detect you when ordinary humans wouldn't, and they're so hyper-aggressive that they can spin in place and kill you before you can do anything.


The robots are usually pretty manageable in most levels, but they were egregiously annoying in the final level when the game throws dozens of these hyper-alert, hyper-aggressive robots at you in very close quarters. And they're relentless, too. Human guards, at least, don't go into full alert when they catch a glimpse of you; the robots do. Human guards will give up searching after 30 seconds and go back to their routines; the robots will keep pacing at high alert right outside your hiding place indefinitely. It took me over three hours of constant trial-and-error save-scumming to get through the final level because of those damn robots.

It was even more exasperating because the final level came right after the game wasted another four hours of my time by making me repeat an entire level all over again. In mission 13, you're tasked with infiltrating a mansion and mapping its interior; if you're playing on expert difficulty, then you have a bonus objective of finding seven secret locations. I spent two hours meticulously scouring every inch of the map for loot and switches to open hidden rooms, only for mission 14 to send me right back into the exact same level to do it all over again, with everything reset. That second-to-last mission feels like deliberate content padding, and was a major buzzkill going into the final mission.

The ending, though, is the ultimate buzzkill. It shows an animated scene of the villain being stopped, but then ends with no resolution whatsoever. There's just a brief dialogue between Garrett and a Keeper, in which Garrett asks if all of the game's events had been written in their prophecies; the Keeper says they were, and Garrett says "tell me more." The screen then cuts to black so abruptly that I almost thought the game had crashed. Thief 1's ending showed some peaceful resolution of what happened after stopping the Trickster, with nice, tranquil music, and a longer dialogue that actually explains what Garrett's going to do with himself while giving the player more of a setup for the next game. It made you feel accomplished, like a badass, and that after saving the world you were free, setting off to do your own thing. Thief 2's ending just says "alright, game's over, back to the menu with you."


Where Thief 2 gets most of its deserved praise is in the level design. The maps in Thief 2 are generally larger, more open, and more complex than those in Thief 1, offering you a lot more freedom to pick your own route to your objectives. Whereas Thief 1 might have only had, at most, three ways to get to an objective, Thief 2 is more apt to give you five or six options. Perhaps more importantly, the map is actually useful in Thief 2, showing you the exact layout of each level while still only generalizing your location within the map. It still requires you to use a combination of your eyes and the compass to figure out where you're going, but you can actually plan routes in Thief 2 and thus have a better sense of where you're actually going ahead of time. They also just make more logical sense, as compared to some of the maps in Thief 1 that felt like random, jumbled messes.

Unfortunately, the bigger, more complicated maps come with a few trade-offs. With more interconnected paths leading to vastly divergent routes through the level, and more patrolling guards moving throughout the larger number of rooms, there are a lot more moving parts that can lead to a lot more trial-and-error as you sometimes find yourself backed into a corner because of variables you didn't (and couldn't) know about. It also seems like there isn't as much meaningful loot to find, as if it's all been spread across bigger maps, leaving you with a lot of long, empty hallways and barren rooms. It can be a bit tedious trying to complete some of those high value "steal X amount of loot" objectives when Garrett, master thief, is reduced to scrounging through couches for loose change.

As for which game I like better, I think I have to give a slight edge to Thief 1. I personally prefer its darker fantasy/horror atmosphere, and I felt like it had more memorable levels and more overall variety. While Thief 2 is technically a better game, in terms of the upgrades to the engine and the greater focus on level design, I just didn't care for its steampunk drapings, and the cameras and security bots felt more annoying that any of the undead enemies in Thief 1. As I wrote at the top of the article, the two games are so similar that deciding which one is better mostly comes down to personal taste. In the future, I probably won't make distinctions between them, because they do kind of feel like one, singular entity.

Thief: Deadly Shadows is Surprisingly Good

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There are two things I've been persistently hearing about Thief III: Deadly Shadows for over a decade: first, is that it's an inferior disappointment compared to its highly-regarded predecessors, and second, is that the Shalebridge Cradle level is so good that it completely makes up for all of the game's shortcomings. Upon completing the game, I feel like I've been somewhat misled all these years. There's a ton of notable detraction from the precedents established in Thief and Thief 2, but it's really not a bad game at all, or even a bad Thief game. The Shalebridge Cradle, meanwhile, is a really well-designed level, but it didn't impress me nearly as much as the constant years of hype led me to expect. 

There are merits for both arguments -- I can agree with both, to an extent -- but I feel like people have been exaggerating the extreme positives and negatives of this game for years, when Deadly Shadows is just kind of an average game all around. There's a lot to criticize in this game (and indeed, I'll be doing a lot of that below), but there's some really good stuff at work here, too. It's a pity that the game had to compromise so much for a new platform and a new audience, and that some of its more brilliant ideas didn't work out like Ion Storm intended, because I actually kind of like Deadly Shadows, despite all of its flaws. 

I absolutely hated the game at first, though. Everything about it felt horribly wrong, because just about everything was different -- usually for the worse. It's as if, in the process of moving to a new studio and designing the sequel for a new platform, the development team took the successful, proven blueprints of Thief and Thief 2 and threw them out the window, electing instead to reinvent the wheel, only to end up with some kind of octagonal contraption. Sure, it vaguely resembles a wheel, and it does roll if you push it, but it's really bumpy and just not very good.

Garrett's bedroom in his apartment.

A lot of the changes seem to stem primarily from consolization. Because of the original Xbox's inferior memory capacity, levels couldn't be as big or as open as they used to be, resulting in more compact level design broken into multiple loading zones. And because console audiences were perceived as more casual than the PC audiences that played Thief and Thief 2, levels in Deadly Shadows are a lot more linear, and valuable loot sparkles brightly so that it's easier to see. The tutorial is particularly disappointing, with its glowing footstep trails that show you exactly where to go, and its full screen text prompts that pop up to tell you exactly what to do. It's important that a game explain to you how things work, but that much hand-holding up front was almost insulting to me, and the text prompts and glowing footsteps were completely immersion breaking.

It really makes you wonder if anyone at Ion Storm had ever heard of the phrase "if it ain't broke, don't fix it."Thief 1 had a perfectly fine, if simple, tutorial section where you got to play as Garrett going through his Keeper training. It was basically an obstacle course with an on-screen character talking to you, explaining how things work and issuing commands. It was both thematic and immersive, and most importantly, it could be skipped if you already knew what you were doing. I can only assume Ion Storm made the tutorial a mandatory part of the first mission, and made it so heavy-handed, because they had little faith in console audiences to figure stuff out on their own, or to actually play the tutorial if it wasn't mandatory. The first mission, then, is utterly bland and annoying because of the tutorial.

Movement has to be the absolute worst thing about Deadly Shadows, though. Whereas movement felt smooth and responsive in Thief 1 & 2, movement in Deadly Shadows is a clunky, imprecise mess. As the first game in the series to be playable in third-person, Garrett needed a complete body model with a full range of animations. To make the first-person perspective work with those animations, they plugged the camera directly into Garrett's head, which leads to a lot of clunky head-bobbing and awkward delays when you try to move or turn a certain way and find Garrett's body pulling the camera away from where you expect to be.

Surveying the situation from the rooftops. 

When you start moving from a stand still, the camera delays for a split second and then sort of zooms forward to catch up, and when you come to a stop, the camera lurches forward slightly and then pulls back. When you jump, the camera seems to stagger, and when you go up stairs it bounces almost like it's being dragged up the steps. If you turn around and then move forward, Garrett will spin out a short distance, running a small semi-circle, because his head is turned further than his body, and pressing forward causes his body to move forward and then turn to catch up to his head. Leaning has a slow, rigid feel to it -- you release the button and have to sit there and wait a full second or more for Garrett's animation to move him back into a normal upright position. Even strafing against walls, and thereby bumping into them, causes the camera to jerk and spaz unpleasantly.

A lot of actions actually lock the controls up on you, which can be a significant immersion-breaker. When you pick a lock, the game zooms in on the lock and doesn't let you move or look around until you disengage from the lock. When you pick up a body, the camera takes control and locks your movement and camera control while Garrett kneels down to grab the body. When you blackjack a guard, the controls and camera lock up while Garrett executes the attack. The same happens for getting on or off of a ladder, or when you jump in or out of wall-climbing.

The result is a movement system that feels clunky, awkward, unwieldy, and imprecise. Part of the reason Thief 1 & 2 were so good is because the movement system felt snappy and responsive; it was easy to do exactly what you intended to do and made you feel like you had a tight kinetic control over Garrett's movements. Deadly Shadows makes Garrett's movements work at odds with your intentions, often leading you to fall off ledges (and die) or to bump into things (and alert guards), and just generally making you feel like you're controlling a bumbling, drunken buffoon, which shouldn't be the case for a so-called "master thief."

Don't turn around the corner. Nothing to see here good buddy.

Melee combat was also changed for the worse, perhaps in an effort to emphasize the stealth system over combat. I criticized the combat in Thief 1 & 2 for feeling clunky and sluggish, but at least it had some good ideas; more importantly, once you got the hang of it, you could actually fare pretty well based on sheer skill. Garrett's sword has been replaced with a pitiful dagger in Deadly Shadows; you can't block attacks anymore, and you can't aim a certain way for different types of attacks. All you can do is mash the attack button and flail wildly at an extremely close range. Any time you go into combat, you're guaranteed to suffer a ton of damage because the system is just so terrible, which means any time you get caught by guards, you have to run away or else reload a save file.

It's especially problematic because now, in order to execute a stealth KO with the blackjack, you have to be directly behind an unaware guard. It used to be that you could knock out a guard from any angle, as long as you were close enough to hit them and they didn't notice you. You could even run directly up to a guard in a well-lit room and hit him from the front, if you could catch him by surprise by getting to him quickly enough. Knocking guards out felt natural in Thief 1 & 2; it was intuitive and enabled you to do whatever made the most sense in the scenario, whereas Deadly Shadows makes it feel artificially restricting. Consider that, if a guard is sitting in a wooden chair at a dining table, he's completely invincible to knockout because his back is protected. If you whack him in the back of the head, he brushes it off like a hit from rolled-up newspaper, and turns around to kick your ass.

Then there are all the weird technical changes and issues. There's no setting in the options menu to adjust mouse sensitivity, and you can't even get to the options menu while in-game; you have to save and exit out to the main menu. The field-of-view is set uncomfortably low for a first-person game, and the menus and fonts look like something out of the early days of RuneScape. I also encountered numerous glitches, including countless times when Garrett got stuck in a jumping animation, floating around on the ground unable to do anything. I got stuck on the terrain countless times and clipped through walls on occasion. The physics are pretty wonky, too, with Garrett sort of floating in mid-air for a second at the top of his jump, and wooden barrels and boxes that frequently make colossal, thunderous noises when you lightly brush your elbow against them, and ragdoll effects that break NPCs' spines in half as they collapse backwards on themselves.

Ridiculous ragdoll effects, complete with atomic blue object highlight.

A lot of other features that had become staple elements of Thief 1 & 2 are inexplicably missing in Deadly Shadows, and their absence is immediately noticeable and off-putting. There are no more cutscenes before mission briefings; all you get is a menu screen that shows Garrett's narration in text form, along with his usual voice-over. You can still lean left and right, but they removed the ability to lean forward. Swimming is completely gone, thereby removing entire aspects of level design. Rope arrows are gone, replaced by wall-climbing gloves that come later in the game. Arrows disappear after they're fired and can no longer be reclaimed if you miss, and the different sounds your footsteps make on different surfaces seems to play a much less significant role in the stealth system.

With all of that stuff missing, what's been added in their place? There's the afore-mentioned climbing gloves, which aren't as fun or as creative as the rope arrows, while tending to have extremely limited uses. Lock-picking now involves a mini-game where you have to orient the lockpick along the four cardinal directions to unlock a series of tumblers, finding the right position for each tumbler. It's ok. There are a few new items, like oil flasks that you can throw to make guards slip on them (I never even bothered with these) and gas bombs that function like gas arrows, except thrown like a grenade. You can also press a button to press yourself against a wall, which is useful for getting out of guards' paths in narrow corridors or for finding that extra bit of shadow to conceal yourself in, but I forgot about it entirely because it seems like it only works in areas where it's specifically expected; almost any time I thought to use it, it didn't even work.

The biggest addition to Deadly Shadows is the semi-open hub that exists between missions. Instead of just going through a series of missions, starting at a menu screen and being dropped into separate maps, Deadly Shadows takes place in a persistent world that requires you to move through the city to get to each mission area. Additionally, there are merchants you can visit to sell your stolen goods or to buy extra thieving supplies, and there are optional side-missions you can complete for extra rewards if you explore the city sufficiently to find them. You can also pick the pockets of citizens as they walk through the streets or rob merchants and taverns as you see fit, all while keeping out of sight of the city guard, who will try to arrest you on sight as a known criminal.

Spotted by a guards in the city streets.

The fact that you get to stay in Garrett's perspective between missions enhances the immersion quite a bit, since you're in his shoes at every step of the game -- time rarely passes when you're not in control of Garrett, or watching him in a cutscene. It's also nice to get a stronger feel for Garrett's everyday life, in terms of seeing more of what the city is like and how his neighbors, fences, and suppliers talk to him. I also like all the extra freedom it offers for exploration, to find hidden areas and complete optional side-missions. The semi-open nature of the city hub even lets you choose the order you tackle missions in a few key areas, which makes you feel a little bit more in control of the game.

But while the city hub sounds like a nice addition conceptually, it doesn't work that well in practice. One could argue just as easily that it simply makes you do all the boring legwork between missions that the game used to cut out for you -- slowly trudging through the streets just to get to the next mission, and running back-and-forth across town to sell all of your junk to different merchants, since each one only buys certain types of items. The whole process is pointless, anyway, because there's never any reason to buy anything from the shops; everything you could possibly need is easily found within missions and sitting around the city streets, waiting to be picked up. The only thing you ever need to buy is the climbing gloves.

The option for somewhat non-linear exploration is nice, but the structured limitations get awfully annoying when areas are conveniently inaccessible until you need to go there. It was particularly bad when I overheard people on the street talking about robbing a museum by sneaking through an underground tunnel; I found the tunnel, and then was stopped by an invisible wall because I apparently wasn't meant to go there yet. Another section of the city is sealed off because it's supposedly under quarantine, but then the quarantine is inexplicably lowered later in the game, and once you're in there's no evidence of there having been a quarantine at all. And, in general, it's kind of difficult to feel like you're in a real city when everywhere is divided into tiny regions and separated by loading zones.

Selling goods to a fence. 

The presence of city guards in the streets is seemingly to maintain tension and stealth gameplay between missions, but their behavior is more annoying than anything else, particularly because of their occasional sixth sense for detecting you. How, for instance, can they differentiate the sound of my footsteps from those of the crowd around me when I'm walking behind them? You'd think I'd blend in with the sound of random citizens walking the streets, but they somehow know it's me and pull out their swords to apprehend me. In another situation I'm breaking into an apartment; I'm crouched, moving as silently as possible with the guards' back to me, and yet the moment I step into the apartment he draws his weapon and comes charging at me. In another situation I silently break into an armory and knock out the blacksmith; in the process of looting the place, a guard walks by outside and somehow knows I'm in there robbing the place, even though I closed the door.

It's equally ridiculous how, if you knock a guard out, another one spawns immediately to replace him, leaving you with five seconds or less to hide the body before the replacement resumes the post. I decided to test the limits at one point and gave up after knocking essentially the same guard out six times and dumping six unconscious bodies in an alley. It was kind of fun sneaking past guards in the streets at first, but it gets repetitive really quickly. After a while, you might realize it's faster and easier just to run past them, especially since they all get tired and give up chasing you so quickly. Then again, they seem to get frozen in time the moment you cross a loading zone. At one point I was in hot pursuit of guards and went through a loading zone. I then watched a cutscene in which an entire night passed, and then spent 20-30 minutes breaking out of the building, only to find the same guards in the same positions mid-pursuit when I stepped back outside.

Besides guards, there are also hammerites and pagans roaming parts of the city, who will attack you on sight unless you gain their favor through the game's faction system. From a thematic standpoint, it makes very little sense that Garrett would voluntarily seek to help either of these groups, considering he's been at odds with them at various times throughout both previous games, and there's little practical benefit to doing so. All it does it make them stop attacking you, which admittedly makes certain tasks in the city a bit easier, but it has no effect in missions; pagans and hammers you encounter in missions will be hostile regardless of your status with them. You can ally with both factions, so there are no consequences for choosing one over the other (no branching paths or extra opportunities), and getting on their good sides involves completely mundane MMO-style tasks. The whole thing feels kind of pointless, as if they wanted to do a lot more with it but just ran out of time. Or else, it was just a half-baked idea from the start.

This guy's really happy to be a hammerite. 

Deadly Shadows isn't all bad, however. Some subtle changes are worth praising and acknowledging, like how some guards now carry torches with them, adding a new layer of gameplay to the mix as you try to stay inside of their moving shadow, or slink away as your dark corner of safety is slowly revealed to the light. Guards are also more perceptive now; they notice when other guards or loot are missing from somewhere, and they'll start searching the area for trouble. They're more reactive to torches going out suddenly, and their idle banter with other guards, or the comments they direct to you, are generally more entertaining ("Anyone there? We're friendly and don't know how to fight. Bah, we're wasting our time."). Rats often scurry about the floor and squeal if you step on them, which can alert guards to your presence, so that's something else you have to be mindful of.

Where Deadly Shadows actually improves over its predecessors is atmosphere. A lot of this is simply because it was released years after the originals, and therefore looks and sounds a lot better, but there's a definite artistic stroke to the way Deadly Shadows' levels are constructed. The levels in Deadly Shadows may not be as open or as complex as those in Thief 2, but the hammer cathedral, seaside manor, Shalebridge cradle, and Wieldstrom museum are just about on par with the levels in Thief 2, and are actually some of the most memorable levels of the entire series.

The seaside manor may be my favorite level of any Thief game. The mansion itself is beautiful, but there was a rather tranquil feel to sneaking through it with the rain clapping against the roof and the occasional lightning cracks illuminating the rooms through the glass ceilings while thunder rolled in the distance. It was picturesque, and the soundtrack that plays in the level, with its melancholy piano, chimes, and strings. really brought out the emotive situation of the burglary. You're there stealing from a woman grieving over her deceased husband; she sits at the observatory balcony by herself 24 hours a day, surrounded by servants who come and go to take care of her, and yet feeling so very alone, while those very servants plot to rob her blind. After interacting with her directly, and hearing the voice message her husband had left for her, and hearing how her servants talked about her behind her back, I felt so empathetic for her that I actually felt bad stealing from her.

The opening shot of "Robbing the Cradle."

The Shalebridge Cradle, meanwhile, is alleged to be "the scariest level in any game, even putting Amnesia’s most frightening moments to shame." Others claim "it not only beats every other level in the game - nay, the series - it beats every other moment in every other FPS game I ever played. Sod that, every other game of any kind," and frequently tops the list indiscussionboards for the scariest level anyone's ever played. Kieron Gillen wrote a 10-page article for PC Gamer that reviewed just that one level by itself, arguing that "it’s probably the scariest level ever made, an experiment in non-linear storytelling methods that pays off handsomely and is one of the towering gaming achievements of the past year." There has been immeasurable praise for the Shalebridge Cradle over the past 11 years, and its reputation is the primary reason I started playing the series; after feeling so disappointed with Amnesia: A Machine for Pigs, I wanted to play something truly scary, and turned my sights on "Robbing the Cradle."

And I was underwhelmed. Sure, it's one of the best levels of the game, but "scariest level ever"? Maybe it was at the time, but I felt more scared during moments of Doom 3, FEAR, Condemned: Criminal Origins, Vampire: The Masquerade - Bloodlines, Obscure, Call of Cthulhu: Dark Corners of the Earth, and Pathologic, all of which came out shortly after Deadly Shadows. For an even more direct comparison, I found the "Return to the Cathedral" mission from Thief 1, as well as moments from System Shock 2 and Silent Hill 2 -- all of which predate Deadly Shadows -- much more tense and frightening than the Cradle. Most of the "scary" stuff in the Cradle is just part of the ambient soundtrack, or are scripted noises, all of which are completely harmless. The enemies look far creepier than the usual guards, but they're no more threatening than the guards because they function virtually the same. Basically, you're playing a normal Thief level but with spooky visuals and music pasted on top. The only time I felt remotely scared was when a physics glitch sent me through a wall and knocked half my health away.

So I didn't find the Cradle very scary at all, but it definitely succeeds at being one of the most immersive levels of the series. The tense, droning soundtrack with its ominous sound effects, along with the grim burnt-up appearance of the building and the various notes you find, all combine to set a really good tone for the level that can easily put you in the mood to be scared if your imagination permits it. The storytelling of this level is particularly good, with the way it steadily reveals details about its history through notes, objects in the environment, and the placement of enemies, and then the way it creates a story around you that makes you a part of the cradle's history. I know I'm perhaps too jaded about things, especially when it comes to horror games, so it should be considered high praise that I was able to appreciate this level for all of its artistic merits without even being scared by it. I'm just disappointed that it didn't live up to the hype for me.

One of the undead inmates from the Cradle.

The main story that happens over the course of Deadly Shadows is fairly interesting, too, and might be my favorite of the three Thief games.Whereas Thief 1 & 2's stories could easily be boiled down to a matter of "stop the bad guys,"Deadly Shadows prolongs its mystery much longer, and thus made it more engaging for me to follow. I was much more curious about interpreting the prophecies, figuring everyone's motives out, and tracking down a killer in Deadly Shadows for the pure sake of the story; I played through Thief 1 & 2 mainly for the gameplay and almost didn't even realize there was a story going on. And the ending is really good, too; it brings the trilogy full circle in a way that truly resonates at the very end.

I also really like how Deadly Shadows moves away from Thief 2's more contemporary steampunk atmosphere and goes back towards Thief 1's darker, more fantasy-horror roots. As I mentioned in my Thief 2 review, this is purely a matter of personal preference, and I just didn't care for Thief 2's security cameras, automated defense turrets, and combat bots. All of that stuff is gone in Deadly Shadows, with more of an emphasis on monster encounters like zombies, fishmen, ratmen, tree beasts, and ghosts (though not as much as in Thief 1). Likewise, the towering skyscrapers, banks, police stations, and industrial factories of Thief 2 are replaced with more gothic castles, ancient temples, ghost ships, and haunted asylums.

The zombie-infested ghost ship, played in third-person.

I've spent most of this article criticizing the hell out of Deadly Shadows because there's a lot that's blatantly, and objectively, wrong with it. And yet, a lot of my early complaints dissipated as I got used to the game. Movement in particular bothered me to death in the beginning, I got used to it and it stopped hurting my enjoyment of the game. I patched out or adjusted anything else that bothered me enough, like the head-bob, sparkling loot, the display that shows the percentage of loot you've collected, the mechanical eye overlay when you zoom in on things, the ridiculous neon blue item highlights, and most importantly, the fog wall loading zones during missions. If you're going to play Deadly Shadows in this day and age, then you absolutely need to download and run the sneaky mod, which compiles a bunch of things into one download, including better textures and "the minimalist project" which makes it look and feel a lot more like the original two games.

So the bottom line is this: Deadly Shadows is a definite step down from the brilliant sophistication of Thief 1 & 2, but the core gameplay elements of the Thief games are still present with this game. Even as a bad Thief game, it's still enjoyable, and it even improves on the original in some key areas. Its reputation made me expect to be disappointed, but I simply wasn't; I actually enjoyed it more than Thief 2 in some ways. And the Shalebridge Cradle is a really good level, but it's not nearly as good as the hype led me to believe.

Movie Roundup: Mini-Reviews

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I spent about 20 hours in the back seat of a car this Christmas season, traveling across the country to visit family, which meant I had a lot of free time to kill. In the past I would spend that time playing handheld video games or reading books, but year after year I found myself not having enough time to finish some of those games or books during the trip, and then would never get around to finishing them once I got back home. This year, I decided to take advantage of my big-ass smart phone and download a bunch of movies to watch. I've now watched 11 movies in the past week, including the new Star Trek Star Wars movie on the big screen.

I don't watch a lot of movies, so my critical eye is not trained enough to write a lot of proper reviews for the movies I actually do watch -- with rare exceptions. But, since it's been a while since my last article and it's taking me forever to finish my Thief 2014 review, I figured I'd throw out a bunch of mini reviews for the plethora of movies I watched this week. In the full article, you'll find brief synopses and spoiler-free reviews of, in no particular order: Star Wars: The Force Awakens, Interstellar, Gravity, Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, The Mist, Avenged, Forever's End, Exile, Ex Machina, I'll Follow You Down, and Under the Skin

It's also worth nothing that I was able to watch all of these movies for free (except Star Wars, which I paid to see in the theater) as part of Amazon Prime free movies. If any of these catch your fancy and you have Amazon Prime, you should be able to watch all of them except for Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, which sadly was removed at the start of 2016, and Gravity, which I got for free a while back on Google Play and just now got around to watching. 

Also note: I typed up this entire article, pressed control+z to undo some formatting, and had the entire article disappear from the text entry window, and the online form saved the now-empty draft. So I had to retype all of this (nearly 4000 words) from the preview image that was left open, which doesn't let you select or copy any of the text. So I'm reading the preview image and touch-typing all of this at blazing speed with little to no editing, so please excuse any mistakes or typos, because they're likely to be more egregious now than they usually are.


Interstellar

Interstellar takes place in the near future, on an earth ravaged by dust storms that threaten to cut off the planet's food supply. As technological advances slowly come to a halt and the world's schools push more and more of its youth away from engineering and towards agriculture, former pilot turned farmer Joe Cooper finds himself unsatisfied with his life plowing fields and harvesting corn. A mysterious force of gravity starts communicating with him through his daughter's bookcase, sending him coordinates to a NASA space center, where he finds himself enlisted to pilot a spaceship through a wormhole in search of a habitable planet. After disaster strikes the mission team, Cooper must make a choice to carry on his mission to populate a new world, or return home to his family.

I really appreciated that this was a space exploration movie with a fairly solid grounding in reality. There's obviously some embellishment to the way laws of physics work, especially when it comes to speculative stuff like what lies beyond the event horizon of a black hole, or how dimensions beyond our three perceivable ones work, but it never goes completely off the rails like a lot of space movies tend to do. I also really like the slow build up, how much time is spent witnessing Cooper's ordinary life on Earth before it jumps into space; that made it really easy to care about Cooper and his family, and made the later space sections stand out more. There's genuine tension in watching the mission progress, as things go from bad to worse and the stakes continue to rise, and the movie's pacing keeps it engaging all the way through. This is easily one of the best space movies I've ever seen, and is definitely worth watching if you get the chance and have any interest in the subject matter. 


Gravity

Sandra Bullock and George Clooney play the role of modern day astronauts on a routine mission to fix up the Hubble Space Telescope. While working on the telescope, floating outside the shuttle in their space suits, a nearby Russian satellite explodes, creating a chain reaction as the debris from the satellite knocks out and destroys other satellites. The debris field descends on Bullock and Clooney with little warning and destroys the shuttle, forcing them to attempt to make their way to the International Space Station with what little propellant and oxygen remains in their suits. What follows is a series of disasters as Bullock and Clooney attempt to make their way safely back to Earth. 

The movie is visually impressive, with its wide shots of the earth and the sweeping camera angles that float through space in long, continuous shots helping to make you feel like you're up there with the astronauts. The opening 10-15 minute sequence is stunning, and is perhaps reason enough to watch the movie all on its own, really giving you perspective on how tiny and insignificant an individual person is next to the grand size of the earth. Although the movie makes it seem like this is going to be an Apollo 13-esque realistic drama, it unfortunately turns itself into a farcical disaster/survival movie, where everything goes wrong in a cartoonishly exaggerated way, constantly one thing after another. There's no real plot to the movie, or any backstory or setup to make you care about what's going on, and having Sandra Bullock and George Clooney doing Sandra Bullock and George Clooney things on screen almost distracts from the real plight of the movie. The visual design, sound design, and cinematography are really good, though, which make it almost worth watching. Almost. 


Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind

A romantic comedy in which Jim Carrey and Kate Winslet, distraught by their failing relationship, have their memories of each other systematically erased by a special clinic. After discovering that Clementine (Winslet) has already had the operation done following their heated breakup, Joel (Carrey) decides to have the same operation done on himself. But during the procedure, as he lies unconscious with technicians probing his brain, reliving each of his memories with Clementine, Joel decides he doesn't want to go through with it any more, and starts to fight back against the memory erasing procedure from within his own memories.

I'm not normally one to appreciate romantic comedies, but this one's premise had me interested from the beginning. The idea of selectively erasing memories is much like science fiction, and Jim Carrey plays a pretty straight dramatic role in this movie. Since the memory erasers start with Joel's most recent memories and work their way back, we get to see his and Clementine's relationship unfold backwards, which is an interesting way to tell a story, and throws the audience for a loop when you realize that sections of the movie aren't actually happening in chronological order. It's also fun watching Carrey consciously manipulate his memories, pulling Clementine into repressed memories and other places she wouldn't normally be. The two actors constantly slip in and out of following and breaking the script of their memories, so it's engaging to keep up with what's actual history and what're new events happening in their minds. And of course, the movie wraps things up nicely with a heart-warming ending that truly resonates. This is a solid movie.


The Mist

Based on the novella by Stephen King, The Mist is a survival-horror movie in which residents of a small town suddenly find the town engulfed in a thick mist that contains deadly, monstrous creatures. Following a violent storm, protagonist David Drayton heads into town with his son, where they become trapped in the supermarket with a group of other survivors. Inside the supermarket, the group tries to learn what lies in the mist while preparing the store's defenses to ride out the storm. As the monsters break into the supermarket, a religious fanatic begins to lead a revolution from within, and the group begins to turn on each other. Eventually, David and his son will have to make a run for it and brave their survival out in the mist.

The Mist could almost be a zombie movie, if you took out the giant tentacled monsters, blood-sucking alien mosquitoes, and corrosive web-shooting spiders and just replaced them with zombies. It's rather similar to Romero's Dawn of the Dead, where the group holds up in a shopping mall, and The Mist's story focuses more on the drama between survivors than fighting the monsters, as most zombie movies tend to do. The monster designs are all quite impressive in The Mist, with a good enough variety to keep things interesting. The mist itself does a good job of hiding its horrors well enough in the beginning to instill a sense of dread in the audience, only catching glimpses of what lies within. The cast is brilliant, here, and really brings the interpersonal drama to life in a believable way. The pacing is pretty good, too, with a good balance between action scenes with gruesome deaths and the calm downtime as the survivors get to know each other better. The "twist" ending is a bit dumb when you think about it, but I love those kinds of endings that end on a down note. I wasn't expecting to enjoy this movie, but I enjoyed it quite a bit. 


Avenged

A young, deaf, mute woman named Zoe sets out on a road trip in her newly-acquired Pontiac GTO to visit her fiancee in New Mexico. Along the way, she witnesses two native Americans being murdered by a truckload of racist white men, who kidnap and subsequently rape and murder her. A witch doctor finds her near-lifeless body and attempts to save her with a ritual; he ends up infusing her body with the soul of an Apache chieftain who's out for revenge against the descendants of the men who hunted and murdered his people for sport -- the same people who raped and murdered Zoe. Aided by the new skills of a great warrior, Zoe sets out for revenge before time runs out on her zombified body.

Avenged is a fairly typical "revenge story" movie that really shouldn't stand out from the crowd, but the performances of each of the actors (the lead actress in particular, Amanda Adrienne) combined with the awesome gore effects and violent death scenes make it something special. Amanda Adrienne is simultaneously a sweet, lovable, innocent young woman and a badass killing machine -- a balance you don't see that often with typical "strong female" character in Hollywood movies, who tend to just be male characters in a female body, or else are overly sexualized. The racist antagonists are despicable people who you actually want to see die as painfully as possible, and their writing and acting make them seem like generally believable characters. Avenged really captures that indie grindhouse feel, which makes it easy to recommend if you're into violence and gore in your movies.


Forever's End

Six years after a post-apocalyptic event wipes out all life on Earth, the last girl on Earth, Sarah, is in for a surprise when people suddenly start showing up at her house. First it's her sister, Lily, who seems to have suffered some kind of traumatic event she doesn't talk about; then, it's a strange young man named Ryan who claims to have met her some time ago, who carried with him a picture he drew of her. He searched all over for her, and wants to bring her back to the city where civilization has supposedly survived. The rest of the movie features Ryan trying to convince Sarah to come to the city with him, and Lily trying to convince her that he's up to no good while Sarah slowly falls in love with him. 

The movie's description and advertising promote it as being a post-apocalyptic movie, but it's really not -- that's a marketing lie deliberately intended to mislead audiences into thinking one thing is going on, in order for its twist reveal to work. I have no problem with twist reveals, but I don't appreciate being baited into a movie expecting something I like, and having it switched out for something completely different once I start watching. The actors do a good enough job with the material, but the whole thing is awfully simple and mundane -- the whole movie takes place in one house and the fields directly outside, and there are only three characters in the entire story. It's basically just a series of scenes in which people sit around talking to each other while the audience waits for something to happen. It's kind of boring, really, and the twist ending doesn't surprise much at all, and didn't make the preceding 80 minutes feel worthwhile to me.


Exile

In a post-apocalyptic wasteland, survivors of the small town of Sunderland are faced with a choice; go to school to learn from their alien caretakers in hopes of eventually being blessed and becoming one of them, or be exiled to the wasteland. Raised as children by the Angels, the now teen-aged school children know no other life than that of the wasteland and their angelic caretakers. One of the students, David, was intent on "falling" and being exiled to the wasteland when the Angel kills his mother, but after witnessing how the adults are now being reborn as new lifeforms in the Garden, he decides to become blessed after all. Until he discovers why the angels are killing people like his mother. 

Exile offers a fairly original story, and that should be commended. It's an interesting scenario, with children being brainwashed by space aliens and happily obliging their rules and teachings because they genuinely believe that the "angels" are doing something good. The alien designs and effects are pretty good, especially for a low-budget indie movie, but the acting and set design leave a lot to be desired. A lot of characters talk with unnatural flow and emphasis, and the set design consists entirely of abandoned buildings and piles of junk in the middle of a desert, which somehow all looks too clean and staged for a supposedly post-apocalyptic wasteland. The characters are all pretty bland, utterly devoid of personality or backstory, and it takes a while for the plot to get going. I didn't regret watching this movie, but it's not one I can recommend because it feels like too much of it is "good ideas, poor execution." My thoughts drift more to how much better it could have been than how good it actually is (or isn't).


Ex Machina

Caleb, a programmer for the world's largest search engine, wins a competition and gets to spend a week with the company's CEO, Nathan, on Nathan's private island. When Caleb arrives, he discovers that he won't be on just any vacation; he's going to be the human component in a Turing Test, which tests if an artificial intelligence is perceivable to a human -- if an AI can pass for human, then it is said to "pass" the Turing Test. Over the course of multiple sessions talking to Ava, Nathan's AI robot, Caleb develops feelings for her, fearing that Nathan will "kill" her if she doesn't pass the test. All the while, Caleb suspects Nathan may have darker motives at work.

Like Forever's End, Ex Machina shouldn't be that good; it takes place entirely in one setting, and the whole movie is no more than two characters on screen talking to each other, often about philosophy and theory. And yet, it works in ways that Forever's End didn't. Although they never leave Nathan's resort, every scene (except for the testing sessions with Ava) takes place in a different location, offering a lot of visual variety and exotic locales. And although it's always just two characters talking, there's a surprising amount of tension from beginning to end, because you're never sure what Nathan's angling towards, and there's always that element of doubt about whether Ava is actually demonstrating human qualities, or is just really good at mimicking them. The actors do a tremendous job portraying each of the characters (Oscar Isaac, as Nathan, in particular offers a really nuanced performance that keeps the character constantly fascinating and unpredictable), and the subject matter does what any good science fiction should: it makes you wonder about it means to be human, and where the possibilities of science might lead us. Highly recommend, this is a great movie.


I'll Follow You Down

After Erol's father, an esteemed particle physicist, never returns from an academic trip, having seemingly disappeared, Erol's life and family begin to spiral downward. Twelve years later, his mother kills herself, and Erol sets out, with the help of grandfather, to find out what actually happened to his father twelve years ago. By studying his father's notes, they discover that he invented a time machine and traveled back to 1946 to meet Albert Einstein, and was killed; if they can recreate his work and solve the missing parts of his notes, they can go back in time and prevent him from dying. But doing so would change history over the last 12 years, and Erol struggles to decide if the successful life with his girlfriend is worth risking to save his father and mother.

Time travel stories are a dime a dozen, but they usually tend to focus on large-scale crises. I'll Follow You Down isn't about saving the world or stopping some major catastrophe; it's a much more personal story about a young man who wants his father back in his life. The science fiction element in this movie is pretty subtle; the majority of the movie takes place in present time, as Erol and his grandfather work to solve the quantum physics that would allow time travel, and discuss the implications their journey would have on their own timelines while we, as the audience, get to witness their lives falling apart around them. This is really more of a drama than science fiction movie, and while that's certainly fine, the characters and the plot points don't feel nearly dramatic enough to carry the movie as a pure drama. Still, the story is engaging enough and the ending sequence when they finally complete the time machine offers a really satisfying conclusion.


Under the Skin

Two alien beings descend to Earth. One of them takes the form of a human male motorcyclist, who gathers a dead woman's body and brings it into a van, where Scarlett Johansson, born recently in the stars, takes her clothing. The motorcyclist takes off, and Johansson sets out in the van, trying to pick up and seduce lone men with no families or loved ones on the evening streets of Glasgow. Upon selecting a victim, she takes them back to the spaceship, which resembles a strange, run-down house, where the men fall into a black goo where they remain trapped until their bodies are harvested. As Johansson harvests more and more men, she begins to develop her own humanity and wrestles with her identity while the motorcyclist tries to track her down.

This is easily one of the weirdest movies I've ever seen. This movie is the definition of visual storytelling -- there's not a single word of dialogue that explains what's happening, you just watch the visuals and figure out what's going on for yourself. It's quite an impressive movie in that regard, especially with how much thought and emotion the director and actors are able to express with very limited dialogue. Johansson spends half the movie completely silent and expressionless, and yet we're able to get a strong sense of what she's feeling in those moments when she subtly breaks that character. The seduction scenes are genuinely unsettling, in large part because of the music and the general weirdness of everything. It's an absolutely fascinating movie, mostly because it felt so alien to me that I was captivated trying to figure out what was going on and where the movie was going, but actually watching the movie was a little boring because there are so many long, wide-angle shots where nothing happens. A unique movie, certainly, but not one I can recommend easily because it's one of those "love it or hate it" deals where I fell squarely in the middle. 


Star Wars VII: The Force Awakens

After the events of Return of the Jedi, Luke begins a Jedi training academy where one of his students turns to the dark side, and Luke abandons his Jedi teachings to go into hiding. The Empire, decapitated by Emperor Palpatine's death on the second Death Star, has rebounded under new leadership to form the First Order, while the former Rebellion, still led by Leia Organa, is now known as The Resistance. Now on equal footing with the First Order, the Resistance is trying to push the First Order out of the galaxy once and for all, but needs to find Luke to make it happen. New characters Rey and Finn meet a droid who has a map to Luke's hideout, and try to get him to the Resistance while being hounded by the First Order and its Sith knight Kylo Ren. 

Like many, I was a huge fan of Star Wars as a kid and young adult, but felt no love or attachment to the prequel trilogy. I went into The Force Awakens with an open mind, not expecting some great revival or anything as bad as the prequels, and walked out of the theater decently pleased. It's a well-crafted movie that genuinely feels like Star Wars -- something that can't be said of the prequels -- but a large part of that is due to the low-hanging fruit of simply reusing the same characters and ships as the original trilogy. To that effect, The Force Awakens feels almost detrimentally similar to A New Hope, with elements of Empire Strikes Back, almost as if they're just rehashing the original movie. While it's nice to see familiar actors Mark Hamill, Harrison Ford, and Carrie Fisher reprising their roles, I wish the new movie would've focused more on the new characters. The movie also moves just a little too fast, not giving you quite enough time to appreciate what's going on in individual scenes. There's some good stuff here and it works fine as a reboot of a beloved series, but there are hints of feeling a bit like a soulless corporate product, simply checking off the boxes and playing it a little too safe, doing exactly what the fans wanted so as not to risk messing it up. So, it's a fine movie, but it doesn't have the emphatic spark I would've liked, and that a Star Wars movie should have. 

The New 2014 Thief Reboot Sucks

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Dear game developers: if you're going to make a new game in an established series, especially one that's been dormant for years, please give it a title that distinguishes it from the previous entries in the series. Don't give it the exact same name as the original game, or the series in the general. When I type something like "Thief mechanics" or "Thief level design" into a search engine, how does it know which game I'm referring to? When I'm talking with people about the newest game in the series, what do I call it? The new Thief? The Thief reboot? Thief 2014? Thief4? Thi4f.? It drove me nuts with Tomb Raider, and I'm not looking forward to being in this same situation again when Doom comes out in 2016. I mean really, this whole trend is getting ridiculous and needs to stop.

I pretty much knew from the beginning, when Eidos Montreal released the teaser with the title officially stylized as "Thi4f," that the game was going to be rubbish. Mind you, I pretty much expect to be disappointed by virtually all mainstream AAA games these days, but my cynicism kicks in even stronger when it comes to revivals of beloved classics, and Eidos Montreal's efforts with Deus Ex: Human Revolution left me more skeptical than optimistic that they could do a better job reviving Thief. Looking past the rubbish name, I find that the game itself is rubbish too. It's not just that this is a bad Thief game, and it most certainly is -- it's disappointing even as a game in general. The fact that this is supposedly "Thief" just makes it that much harder to stomach.

As a reboot, this new Thief shares a lot of elements from the first three games while not being canonically tied to them. The protagonist is still named Garrett and he still has a different-colored eye, but he's not the same person as before. It still takes place in The City, a quasi-steampunk Victorian-era industrial city with the same district names, but it's a different city than before. The story centers around a young woman named Erin, a young thief Garrett took under his wing. The game begins with a prologue mission sequence in which you, as Garrett, run along the city rooftops with Erin before infiltrating a mansion. There, the two of you witness a magic ritual, and Erin falls into the magical energy field creating a huge explosion. You wake up an entire year later with no memory of what happened or where you've been, and discover that the city is suffering a deadly epidemic known as "the gloom." You spend the rest of the game tracking down Erin in hope of rescuing her.

Infiltrating the mansion with Erin in the prologue sequence.

The story failed to inspire much motivation in me, as a player, to push forward in the game. The whole point is that you're supposed to be concerned for the well-being of Erin, but the game didn't give me nearly enough time to develop an attachment or even an acquaintance with her. In fact, her characterization had the opposite effect on me, with her rash behavior (killing innocent guards, rushing ahead without checking if the coast is clear) and cliche dialogue ("I'm not a kid anymore,""You're holding me back") making me actively dislike her. Garrett himself even seems more annoyed with her than fond of her, and they don't even make it clear what relation she actually is to Garrett; is she a close friend, a sister, his partner, his protege? We know next to nothing about them at the start of the game, and only get vague hints over the rest of the game, which raise more questions than answers.

Garrett, meanwhile, doesn't feel like Garrett at all. For some reason, they decided to do away with Stephen Russell's iconic voice and got someone else to play the role. But Garrett isn't just any character you can slap a new voice on and have him be the same person; Garrett is Stephen Russell. Romano Orzari attempts to mimic Russell's voice but doesn't pull off the same type of confident swagger, and ends up making Garrett sound like any generic, monotonous grim-voiced character from any other game. If they were going to hire a different actor, then they probably should have let him do something different with the role so that we could maybe appreciate a new interpretation of the character instead of being stuck with what is merely a lame substitute for the real thing.

It's not just his voice that's different; everything about him feels somewhat off. It used to be that he was against killing because it was unprofessional; a true thief should avoid leaving any signs that he was there, and if it was absolutely necessary to dispense a guard, then it was best to knock him out so as not to leave a bloody mess at the scene. Now, when he witnesses Erin kill a guard, he objects on purely moral grounds: "He was barely older than you!" The whole time we have to listen to him talk like a grumpy father scolding his children and worrying about the mission getting too dangerous, instead of hearing his usual professional determination and almost arrogant level of confidence. His appearance reflects his new writing in an equally unpleasant way, with the emo eye shadow and goth leather attire. He even feels different mechanically; with the game's new emphasis on free-running parkour, third-person Uncharted-style platforming/climbing, fast dodging, aerial drop-down attacks, and "swooping," he feels more like a ninja or an assassin than a thief.

"Press Square to watch cinematic takedown." Truly engaging gameplay at work.

The game is also apt to break its own immersion by constantly pulling you out of Garrett's perspective and seizing control from you to play out its own pre-made cutscenes. It's really jarring when you're working your way through a level and suddenly are forced to watch a long cutscene in which you get caught completely beyond your control. Most of the game's main story occurs in these cutscenes, and I found myself constantly zoning out because I wasn't actually involved in what was happening on screen. It was pretty bad, one time, when I sat through a four minute cutscene and found myself swiping through newsfeeds on my phone instead of paying attention to the game. Once I was back in control, I realized I had no idea what actually happened in the cutscene, so I went on YouTube planning to watch it with deliberate attention, and still found myself zoning out halfway through it.

At other times throughout every mission, the game suddenly pulls you out of its normal routine of player-driver exploration and infiltration to force you into a heavily scripted action sequence or story sequence, the likes of which force you to go through a linear sequence of actions to make the scene play out along its rail-roaded trajectory, going to all the right places and pressing the right buttons in the right order like it's some kind of glorified quick-time event. These consist of moments like when you're caught in a mansion, triggering a frantic chase scene where you basically just hold down forward and the sprint key, or when you have to escape through burning buildings while the floors collapse out from under you. Other times you're pulled into a hallucinatory dream world where you just walk along linear paths picking things up off the ground while people talk to you. These moments just kill the gameplay because they take all meaningful input away from the player.

The original Thief games, particularly the first two, strived not only to be good stealth games, but to be what they called "immersive simulators." This was achieved by the constant use of first-person perspective that left you constantly in tight control of the protagonist, and the consistent set of rules implemented to allow you, as Garrett, to interact with the world. You had the freedom to move about the world as you pleased, freely jumping or climbing onto any plausible surface. There were no invisible walls or un-climbable ledges -- unless it was out of reach. Your tools, likewise, could be used freely within a logical, plausible sense. Rope arrows could be attached to any wooden surface; you just aimed and put the rope wherever you wanted it to be. If the designers didn't want you using rope arrows in a particular situation, then they just didn't put wooden surfaces in the area. Basically, these games let you do whatever seemed like the most reasonable thing in any given scenario, thus letting you create your own solutions to every obstacle.

Aiming a water arrow to douse a burning fire. 

This new Thief doesn't adhere to these principles of creative freedom or consistent rules at all. Every interaction you can possibly have with the environment has been scripted in advance. Using rope arrows to reach inaccessible areas, throwing objects to distract guards, lighting oil spills on fire, leaning around corners, and jumping/climbing onto surfaces can only be done in areas the game specifically intends you to. You can climb some things, but not others; you can pick up and throw some objects, but not others; you can open some doors and windows, but not others; you can crawl through some narrow passages, but not others; you can fall to your death off some ledges, but not others; you can lean around some corners, but not others. The act of simply interacting with the world proves so maddeningly infuriating at times, because the rules are so inconsistent that you often can't do the most natural, logical thing in a given situation.

At one point I was trying to break into a three-story apartment building from a neighboring rooftop; there was a rope hot spot nearby, which let me dangle a rope right outside the second and third floor windows. Except, the third floor window was barred. The rope looked perfectly within reach, so I tried jumping onto it, planning to lower myself down to the second floor window and work my way up to the third floor. And I ran straight off the ledge to my death without jumping, presumably because the game didn't intend for me to jump onto the rope from that angle. I died two more times trying to jump onto the rope before figuring out I was supposed to break into the third floor through a vent on the other side of the building, open the bars, and then jump on the rope from inside the building to lower myself down to the second floor window. I just about had a brain aneurysm here, because the rope was equidistant from the rooftop ledge and the third floor window; how did the game expect me to know I wasn't supposed to jump onto the rope from the rooftop? And furthermore, why couldn't I jump onto the rope from the rooftop?

Then you've got all the absurd nonsense going on with the interface that shows GPS waypoint markers for each of your objectives, enemy health bars, enemy "alert status" bars, a rotating mini-map, interaction button prompts, and arrow accuracy indicators, in addition to other things like sparkling loot and object highlights, all of which is turned on by default. I turned all that crap off because that's just not how a Thief game should played, and I found most of it incredibly distracting. I got really annoyed by all the floating messages constantly telling me to "Press L2 to climb" or "Press square to peek" in obvious situations, but then struggled numerous times to figure out what the hell I was supposed to do when those prompts weren't there in unusual, idiosyncratic situations, like "Hold square to jump onto meat hook." I spent a couple minutes trying to jump onto it with the usual L2 prompt, and tried both pressing and holding square, but I apparently wasn't close enough to trigger the cutscene animation and had no way to know that was the case.

Using focus vision to highlight all of the interactive stuff. 

Likewise, I turned object highlight on because I wanted to be able to tell what I was targeting, so that I wouldn't get screwed by the context-sensitive action button doing something different than I intended, like opening a drawer or going into peek mode when I simply wanted to take something off a desk, but that had the unintended consequence of permanently illuminating all of the game's windows, ropes, and other climbable surface a bright immersion-breaking blue. The context-sensitive L2 button is particularly atrocious, since it has sprint, jump, and climb all mapped to the same button; while trying to run away from alerted guards, I found myself constantly climbing up and sliding over surfaces I didn't mean to. In a couple situations I pressed L2 hoping to climb onto a ledge, only to discover that I couldn't, causing my character instead to sprint in place for a moment thus alerting the nearby guards.

The guards themselves have really inconsistent behavior, too, which makes it impossible to predict what will happen when you try to do something. If you throw a glass bottle to distract some guards, some will move towards the source of the noise, while others will simply turn and look. Sometimes, only the nearest one will go to inspect the noise; other times multiple guards will do so. Sometimes guards would walk right past me and I'd wonder how in the world they didn't see me, while other times they'd spot me from across the room when I felt sure I was hidden.

This new Thief brings back the iconic light gem, which helped you determine your visibility in the previous games by indicating how well-concealed you were in the darkness. The light gem of olden days had something like eight or more different shades that progressively filled up from completely dark to fully illuminated as you stepped in and out of shadows; the new light gem in Thief 2014 only has three states -- hidden, visible, and some stage in-between. Perhaps that's all you really need, but the light gem in this game doesn't help at all, since you can be completely hidden in darkness and still be spotted by guards at a reasonable distance, while other spaces look like they'd enshroud you in complete darkness, but then you step into them and discover that your light gem is only partially darkened, or worse yet in some inexplicable cases, fully illuminated.

The tutorial message explaining the light gem.

With the game's incredibly narrow field of view that prevents you from having any kind of peripheral vision whatsoever, along with your general inability to hear guard footsteps or noises because of the game's horrendous sound mixing, it's really hard to anticipate guards because you usually don't see or hear them coming. That's probably why the game has all these extraneous audio-visual cues telling you things about the mechanical state you're in, because they didn't do a good enough job creating consistent guard behavior or shadows. Every time you step into the light, the screen flashes a bright white to tell you "HEY, YOU'RE VISIBLE NOW!" And every time a guard spots you, there's this loud musical accent to tell you "HEY, YOU'VE BEEN SPOTTED!" Often times, the only reason I know I've even been spotted is because I hear the music chime in, and the only way to readily know I'm stepping out of darkness is by the blinding white light.

Poor immersive feedback makes stealth rather unsatisfying most of the time, because it makes the game rely far too heavily on the bad type of trial-and-error. The game often gives you very limited windows of time in which you can safely perform an action, like taking out a guard or sneaking past him, before those options are permanently taken away from you or before it gets much harder to do so. A guard may walk past the door to the room you're in, giving you a few seconds to sneak around the corner behind cover or into another room, before he turns around to lean his back against the wall and stare straight out into the room for the rest of eternity. If you didn't move when his back was turned, then your only options are to throw a glass bottle to distract him, get caught and take him down in a head-on battle, or else reload a save and try again.

In one scenario, it took me five or six tries to figure out the exact timing and order of operations: open a door to distract the guard, swoop around to the other door and go inside, grab the candle, cut out the painting, swoop out of the room, close the door [so that the original guard wouldn't see me as he was returning to his original position], turn off the light [so the guard in the other hallway who was going to turn around wouldn't see me], and grab another candle. There had to be enough of a delay between opening the first door and entering the second so that the guard wouldn't see me in his peripheral vision as he was walking out, and yet I needed to get in there as soon as I could to give myself enough time to grab everything and get out safely. That left me with about a one second window to work with on both ends of the sequence; any minor slip-ups and I'd have to start over again.

Picking a lockbox before the fire spreads and engulfs you. 

It gets many times worse in other scenarios when you have 6-8 dynamic variables to contend with, leading to dozens of possible combinations of things you can do, in certain orders, trying to find that one combination that lets you get through an area undetected. In some of the game's more complex situations, where they give you a more "open" floor plan with multiple patrolling guards and several points of interaction in the environment, I had to spend 30-45 minutes just to find that exact, perfect combination of actions that would get me through the "room" undetected.

That may seem like a good thing, that the game gives you enough options that I could spend that much time picking a desirable course of action, but the element of choice is just an illusion. Guards rely too heavily on scripted behaviors, for instance -- "spawning" only when you cross a certain threshold, or waiting until you cross a certain point to start a certain sequence of actions. You walk halfway through an empty room, and a guard walks in behind you, despite the fact that you've knocked out every guard in the level to that point. Other guards wait until you nearly turn the corner before they walk into view. It's like the game is trying to force moments of quick-thinking improvisation on you, but it really just makes the game feel phony, staged, and artificial; it doesn't really matter what you do in the game because it's going to force so many things to happen a certain way.

The level design, in particular, doesn't really allow you to improvise or come up with your own strategies; it always feels like the game is shoehorning you into two or three predetermined paths. This is no better evidenced than the rope arrows, which can only be used in predetermined spots to serve a predetermined purpose. It doesn't feel like you're using them proactively to come up with your own creative solution to a problem, but rather like you're using them reactively to do what the game explicitly tells you. The only choice you have in that scenario is to use the rope in the exact way the designers intended, or else not use it at all, which isn't much of a satisfying choice. Even when you're picking a different route, like gaining entry to the mansion by climbing through a window, as opposed to going through the cellar, they tend to be only minor deviations along the main path through the level.

Peering down at guards from a cross beam in the rafters. 

Levels in this game are incredibly linear, often completely devoid of exploration and figuring things our for yourself. In chapter four, you're given the objective to "find the jail cells," and you simply follow the one and only path through the giant, towering Keep until you conveniently arrive at the jail cells. And then you have to "find the great safe," and once again you just follow the only path until you conveniently arrive there. On a larger scale, the missions are always broken into two or three chunks that have to be completed in order, in a certain way, before crossing a point of no return and moving onto the next chunk. The main reason for all the linearity, I suspect, is because of the game's reliance on heavy-handed storytelling; things have to happen a very specific way in order for the elaborate cutscenes and storyboards to make sense, so the level design necessarily reflects the pacing of the story instead of focusing more on facilitating gameplay.

The original games usually dropped you outside an enclosed area and said "steal the precious item." There were certain preliminary goals you had to accomplish to reach those ends, but it was often up to you to figure out where the item was and how to get to it. It made you feel like a thief: casing the joint, studying it for weaknesses, getting in, mapping the layout (without the aid of a mini-map), solving the puzzle, and getting out. Each level was like a sandbox that let you do your own thing. Objectives in the new Thief deal less with actual thievery in these types of open-ended sandboxes; instead of having to get something, you're usually trying to get somewhere, so that you can get to the next location, and then the next location, so that you can find something out about what happened to Erin.

There's really no challenge in figuring anything out, either. With the mini-map that shows the entire layout of the level and your exact position in it, the waypoint markers telling you exactly where to go and how far away your next destination is at any given time, and the "focus vision" that magically highlights every interactive thing in the environment, you basically just coast through the levels without having to actually think about where you're going or what you're doing. Thankfully you can turn all of this off if you want a slightly more "old school"Thief experience, but the level design still follows this principle of dumbed-down linearity. When a message pops up on screen telling you to "find the hidden passage" in the room you're in, you'd think there'd be at least some kind of puzzle or challenge involved that required keen observation and clever deduction skills. But, in this game, you just casually glance around the room and find the super obvious, giant gold-framed painting that's illuminated by the only light in the room, which you can immediately guess has hidden switches behind it exactly like all the other countless "hidden switch paintings" you've encountered before.

The front entrance to Moira Asylum. 

The crown jewel of level design in the new Thief has to be the Moira asylum, which is obviously attempting to be "the scary level" like the Shalebridge Cradle was in Deadly Shadows, or Return to the Cathedral was in Thief: The Dark Project. To its credit, the Moira asylum was actually spooky and unsettling. Per the usual, I'm so desensitized to horror games that nothing truly scared me -- even the few jump scares had no effect whatsoever -- but I did find myself holding my breath as I slowly crept forward, nervous any time I turned a corner or turned around. Basically, the Moira asylum is what I was expecting from the Shalebridge Cradle, but did not get -- weird supernatural stuff going on like ghostly visions, mannequins that reposition themselves when you aren't watching, doors mysteriously unlocking themselves, or bloody messages suddenly appearing on the walls. It was enough to put me just a little on edge and kept my attention firmly glued to the screen with fascination. So, well done Thief, you actually impressed me with this level.

The game makes up for the linear missions by offering a rather large hub, in the form of The City, that you can explore between missions. You can break into people's homes to steal extra loot and find valuable collectibles, or visit several shops to spend your money on supplies and upgrades to your equipment and abilities, or even take on optional side missions with their own separate levels, storylines, and objectives. It's basically taking the idea introduced in Deadly Shadows and expanding it into something more substantial, which is certainly a worthwhile endeavor. After all, it helps the immersion somewhat by leaving you in Garrett's perspective between missions, and it gives back some of that freedom that's lost in the overly restrictive, linear missions. Unfortunately, the City hub is a colossal mess that's a chore to navigate and simply not that fun.

The City is made up of dozens of narrow, labyrinthine streets that all look virtually identical. There's no sense of structure or organized layout to the City because everywhere looks and feels like ramshackle slums -- few places actually stand out in any kind of unique, memorable sort of way. It was pretty bad when I entered a brand new district and thought to myself "this all looks so familiar. Have I been here before? I can't tell." I spent a lot of time in this game breaking into the same buildings over and over again because I could never recognize any of them as buildings I'd already infiltrated, or because I was desperately trying to find a transition point that would load me into the next district of the City, which aren't marked at all on your map. Simply trying to get from one end of the City to another is a major pain, because all of the roadblocks and guard patrols force you to go really far out of your way finding an obscure, indirect detour.

Climbing onto the rooftops.

The City is basically broken into two planes -- the ground-level streets and the rooftops. Being able to run along the rooftops is a cool idea, reinforced by the classic "Thieves' Highway" level from Thief 2, but the streets and rooftops are almost entirely separate planes of existence in this game. It's really difficult to transition between the two planes; often times you get stuck on the rooftops trying to figure out how the hell to get down, and vice versa. When faced with a closed gate to the next district, I looked up and found a glowing blue window with a series of beams and ledges leading away from it. Figuring that was where I had to get to, I spent nearly two whole minutes backtracking and looking every which way trying to figure out just how in the world I was supposed to get up there. Eventually I gave up, and several hours later discovered that the only way to get up to those beams is to enter the district through a completely different loading zone, which wouldn't become available to me until later.

Completing side missions in this unwieldy map is almost unbearable. Between main missions, you can pick up jobs from a man named Basso, who periodically picks up information on where special loot can be had in the City. These, however, are all just menial tasks with waypoint markers to loot. There's a one-paragraph backstory for each job, but when the game bombards you with six or eight of them at a time it's hard to keep track of what's actually going on in each one. Basso has a few clients who hire you take on more elaborate side missions, which have their own special mission maps and scenarios, like breaking into a bank to steal a precious necklace from the vault, or helping a bumbling drunk stumble his way into the black market so you can steal a "talking skull" for a magician. These client jobs ironically tend to be better than the full-on main missions because they make you feel more like an actual thief by giving you somewhat more "open" scenarios of "get in, get the item, and get out" like the original games (albeit, smaller and shorter).

Sadly, just getting to these missions is enough of a turn off, because of the horrendous City hub, that it made me quit playing numerous times along the way. There's no way to know when clients have new jobs for you except to make the long trek all the way across the city to visit them in person. Sometimes I'd spend 15 minutes getting to a client only to find out he had no work me, which then required me to spend another 15 minutes getting back to where I was. Thirty minutes later, I'd accomplished virtually nothing and felt so annoyed I put the controller down and stopped playing. One time I booted the game up after not playing for a couple of days, intending to finally get around to starting one of the main missions, and spent 20 minutes slogging my way through town just to get there. By the time I reached my destination, I was so enervated that I no longer had the energy to play the mission, and stopped playing for that session.

Peeking at guards around the corner. 

Even more sadly, all of this slogging around town, checking every nook and cranny for loot and picking up every menial job from Basso is required in order to build up enough money to afford supplies or any of the game's upgrades. Unlike Deadly Shadows, there's very little equipment to be found sitting around the city hub or in mission -- you have to buy everything. I played each of the previous three Thief games on the hardest difficulty and continued that trend with this game, which meant having to pay absurdly inflated prices for everything, and it just got to be really tedious and discouraging trying to save up 28,000g to get a single upgrade, when the game is forcing me to get there by stealing 2g cups from people's cabinets, or picking up single gold coins on the streets. Consequently, exploring the hub just doesn't feel that rewarding, especially on occasions when you spend 75g (or 56g, with the discount) on a rope arrow to get into an otherwise inaccessible apartment, only to find 40g worth of loot inside.

You can replay missions to get more money, but good luck finding them since none of them are marked on the map. I, for one, had no desire to go back and replay such linear levels a second (or third, or fourth) time just to farm money. On the bright side, at least the game doesn't force you to make routine trips to multiple merchants to sell all of your stolen goods, like Deadly Shadows required. The upgrades, meanwhile -- things like leather padding which increases your safe falling distance, or the crosswind medallion which decreases your chances of being hit by enemy projectiles -- give you something worthwhile to actually spend your money on, and it's nice having that strategic decision-making about what priorities you want to focus on for your own particular playstyle. By playing in master difficulty I was guaranteed to have no chance of unlocking everything in one playthrough, which added a lot of weight to the decision-making process.

Then you've got all kinds of weird technical issues and decisions that really make the game less and less pleasant to play. In the beginning of the game, Garrett makes that big fuss at Erin about not killing guards, but then through all the missions you get bonus challenges popping up telling you to score X fatal headshots on guards. Why are you encouraging this when it's in stark contrast to the character you're trying to depict? While exploring the city, ambient NPCs repeat the same lines of dialogue over and over again, sometimes even back-to-back with no pause. Two NPCs had the exact same exchange of dialogue six times in the span of a minute while I was trying to sneak across a courtyard. A lot of them seem to have no idle animations and get stuck repeating more active animation loops, like in the case of one woman who kept raising her hands to fix her hair, lowering them, and then raising them to fix her hair again, or the angry mob preacher silently waving his fists in the air even long after he's finished his tirade.

One of the worst sound problems in the game. 

The sound design, in particular, is all screwed up. There's already the problem of the repeated lines, but sometimes a character will end up speaking two separate lines simultaneously -- this happened with Garrett himself a few times upon entering a room or picking up an item. Worse yet is the mixing, which randomly makes people talking right in front of me sound like they're on the other side of a brick wall, or people on the other side a courtyard sound like they're right in front of me. During one cutscene I could barely hear the character talking, so I reloaded the save to watch it again and suddenly he was sounding fine. I turned the captions on at one point hoping to mitigate this issue, but then found the captions weren't syncing with the dialogue, sometimes being a line ahead of or behind the spoken line, or picking up lines from background NPCs and displaying those instead of the character who's focused in the center of the screen.

One of the main missions takes place in a brothel, and it forces you to peep on several sex scenes through hidden holes in the wall to find symbols necessary to operate the combination on a mechanism to open another door. One of them is a BDSM scene with a man strapped to a chair, loudly panting and moaning, and when I exited out of the peephole the audio got stuck as if I was still watching. Even after walking to the other side of the brothel and peeping on other rooms, hoping to overwrite the sound effects, I was forced to listen to a guy obscenely yelling "Harder! Yes, hit me! That's the spot. Pinch my nipples!" for several minutes while I hunted down the other symbols and stood at the mechanism working out the combination to open the door. I'm not against sex scenes in video games or anything, but that whole situation was so distracting and unpleasant to endure that it deserves special mention here.

Other technical issues I encountered running the patched PS3 version of the game: it froze five times, requiring me to do a hard reset on the console. Twice it was during a load screen, after which manual saving was impossible until I encountered an auto-save to overwrite the corrupted save file. On two occasions the sound stopped working completely, requiring me to exit out of the game and reboot it. I encountered a glitch when a guard and I tried to open a door at the same time, causing us both to become stuck in place unable to do anything. An elevator door got stuck and wouldn't open, forcing me to sit there for 15 seconds before the doors slid open at lightning speed, as if the animation was playing in fast-forward to catch up. And graphically, the game looks terrible. Faces look like rigid plastic, the lip syncing is bad, textures pop in so glaringly that it's like watching pop corn cook, and there are so many broken seams, missing textures, clipping errors, and floating objects that I can hardly believe this is supposed to be a "AAA" product. I'm sure this is because I was playing the PS3 version, and not the PS4 or PC version, but damn it was such an eyesore that I can't believe they sold the product like this.

Examining a valuable item Garrett's just stolen. 

So where does that leave us with the 2014 Thief reboot? Surely the whole game isn't utter garbage, right? There must be some redeeming qualities to this game, right? Well, sure. At its core, stealing stuff is still pretty satisfying, and it's still pretty thrilling to feel like you're breaking in somewhere you shouldn't be. There's some good tactile feedback with the full body model that lets you see Garrett's hands reach out every time you steal something, and I like how that means it now takes time to grab a bunch of stuff, cause that adds to the tension of trying to get in and get out quickly, without being spotted. The upgrades, as I mentioned earlier, are nice. Special collectibles, likewise, are kind of cool, but it sucks that they're completely worthless until you complete a set. And being able to look through keyholes into other rooms is neat, since that lets you plan better and be less surprised by what you find on the other side of a closed door. Also, the options menu, holy cow, is so extensive, with all kinds of options to turn things on or off depending on your desires, and you can even create your own custom difficulty. More games need this kind of integrity in their options menus.

In the end, though, the 2014 Thief reboot doesn't really feel like a Thief game to me. Maybe it's because of the more modernized console design, but it feels more like a grungier Dishonored with hints of Assassin's Creed. The main problem, besides the sloppy technical implementation of everything, is that it feels like the designers were too concerned with making a movie-like experience with a dramatic storyline progression, instead of just making a good game and letting people play it. Too often, it feels like you're playing the game their way, so that the levels and story can play out exactly as they envisioned it, instead of just being dropped in an environment and being told to use your thief tools and abilities to get the job done on your own. It's a straightforward, almost cliche AAA game that just doesn't have nearly as impactful gameplay as older games used to, as designers become more enamored with creating impressive spectacles instead of good games.

And, for your viewing pleasure, I'd like to share a video I found on YouTube that will more succinctly demonstrate what's wrong with the new Thief. As they say, a picture is worth a thousand words, so a video must be worth millions.

Great Games You Never Played: The "No One Lives Forever" Series

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The Operative: No One Lives Forever and its sequel, No One Lives Forever 2: A Spy in HARM's Way, are a series of first-person shooters developed by Monolith Productions in 2000 and 2002, in which players take the role of 1960s secret agent Cate Archer trying to stop a villainous criminal organization from taking over the world. Overshadowed by major releases like GoldenEye, Half-Life, Deus Ex, and Halo, the NOLF series achieved only moderate financial success at the time and was soon abandoned by Monolith in favor of new series like Condemned and FEAR. Fox Interactive since allowed the copyright to fall into no man's land, preventing the games from ever being made available for digital downloads via Steam or GOG, thus cementing the series' cult status in the annals of video game history.

I played these games for the first time in late 2006 and considered them to be some of the best first-person shooters I'd ever played. Playing them again now, 10 years later (and 16 years after the first game's initial release), I can definitely tell how much these games have aged, but the things that made them so novel back in the day -- the story, the characters, the atmosphere, and the humor -- are just as good now as they were then. Some of the gameplay elements feel a little outdated, granted, but these were somewhat groundbreaking games for their time, being some of the first first-person shooters to allow and encourage stealth, while their emphasis on using spy gadgetry to complete your objectives in a story-driven, swinging 60s setting makes these games truly stand out from the crowd.

Perhaps the biggest testament to NOLF's legacy is how well the series compares to other games of its time. When Half-Life came along in 1998, it forever changed the way shooters were made, yet in the years immediately following its release, few shooters adhered as closely to its lessons as NOLF1, which took the immersive gameplay and narrative-driven level progression from Half-Life and applied it to a more cinematic experience. GoldenEye was a defining genesis for console shooters; NOLF1 took its spy gadgetry and thematic objectives and gave them a more robust focus that, arguably, made NOLF1 a better James Bond game than GoldenEye itself. And when Deus Ex turned people's heads with its inclusion of RPG-style leveling and skills, NOLF2 did the same thing and vastly improved its own gameplay. All-the-while, the NOLF games were some of the first FPSs to allow players the freedom to choose how they'd go about completing a level, by allowing you to stealth your way past guards or to go in guns blazing.

In essence, the NOLF series takes the best elements of these iconic, classic games and blends them together with strong writing, interesting characters, a compelling story, an amusing sense of humor, and some of the most memorable level sequences of its time into games that are even better than the sum of their parts. It's even more impressive when you consider that there really are a lot of good parts to these games, with the wide variety of guns, the different types of ammunition, all of Cate's cool spy gadgets, the vehicles, the variety of mission types, and all the different locations. The story offers a solid premise with a lot of good twists and hooks, and the silly, lighthearted Austin Powers-esque atmosphere offers the series a uniquely refreshing flavor that will have you laughing at some of its more absurd moments, or else simply smiling at the realization that these games just want you to have fun, plain and simple.


The Operative: No One Lives Forever

NOLF1 introduces us to series protagonist Cate Archer as a rookie agent in UNITY, a fictional British anti-terrorism agency akin to MI6. Orphaned as a child, she turned to a life of crime and became a skilled cat burglar known as "the fox," before being recruited to UNITY by seasoned field agent Bruno Lawrie, who quickly became a mentor and close friend to Cate. As the agency's first female agent in a world dominated by 1960s sexism, Cate is relegated to the bottom of the totem pole performing only simple, mundane assignments, and longs for a chance to find excitement on a real field mission. When all of UNITY's top agents are killed in the span of a few days, as the result of a suspected traitor within the agency, Cate finds herself reluctantly called to action by her superiors, who make it abundantly clear that they're only relying on her now because of how short-handed they are.

With a chip on her shoulder, Cate sets out on her first mission to Morocco, under the supervision of Bruno, to uncover intelligence on known assassin Dmitrij Volkov and his connection to the upstart terrorist organization HARM, suspected to be behind the UNITY field agent assassinations. The mission turns out to be a trap setup by Volkov, and Cate is barely able to escape after Volkov kills Bruno in an ambush. Back at headquarters, her superiors, Mr Jones and Mr Smith, theorize that Bruno was the traitor, and that Volkov killed him to tie up loose ends. Cate vehemently disagrees with that theory, and vows to prove Bruno's innocence and avenge his death. The rest of the game sees Cate meeting up with informants in Germany, rescuing a German scientist, escaping from a crashing plane, exploring a sunken freighter, breaking into a high tech laser-protected safe, and riding a rocket up to a space station, among other tasks in other exotic locales, while she tries to figure out what HARM is up to and put a stop to their plans.

Teaser Intro @ 0:00, Intro Credits and Title Theme @ 2:04, 
Introducing Cate Archer @ 3:50

One of the first things you might notice about the game is how close of a resemblance it bears to the James Bond film franchise. The title itself is stylized like a typical Bond movie, with "The Operative" seemingly intended to function like the "007" logo used on posters and in trailers as a brand identifier, while the "No One Lives Forever" subtitle is based on an actual James Bond novel. After the intro teaser is over, it transitions into an opening credits sequence complete with theme music, abstract psychedelic backgrounds, and dancing women (or in this case, Cate Archer), just like the Bond films. Cate gets a bunch of spy gadgets disguised as ordinary items, much like Bond does from Q, and the plot follows a progression typical of a Bond movie, with Cate getting mission briefings from her superiors, being chastised when things don't go according to plan, meeting up with informants, going under cover, tussling with the bad guy's henchmen, and visiting a variety of countries while new information and twists in the story keep popping up.

There are ton of cutscenes in this game, full of dialogue, action, and plot development, but the game's pacing can suffer at times when you're forced to sit there for long stretches of time barely doing anything. It takes almost 30 minutes at the start of the game watching the opening teaser, opening credits, introductory dialogue between Cate and Bruno, attending your first mission briefing, then going through basic and advanced training before you even get into the first mission. This pattern repeats itself between every mission, often giving you 10-15 minutes of cutscenes and tutorials before you can get back to the actual gameplay. The mission briefings can be particularly boring when you consider that there are no animations during these prolonged conversations, where you basically just watch people standing perfectly still as they open and close their mouths. On the other hand, this whole rhythm of attending mission briefings and being trained with your new gadgets does a good job of putting you in the mindset of being a secret agent, which is certainly good for the atmosphere and immersion.

Even though there's not usually a lot going on in the cutscenes, I still found them holding my attention largely because of how well the characters are written and acted. Cate is an instantly likable protagonist, demonstrating the capable confidence of typical badass heroines without compromising her femininity, and while actually feeling like a real person. She's smart, skilled, and her subtly contemptuous, sarcastic responses to her bosses' chauvinistic remarks give her a daring spirit you just want to root for. Dialogue effectively informs us of characters' histories and personality traits just by how they interact with one another. The conversation between Cate and Bruno at the start of the game not only informs us of the necessary backstory to understand what's going on in the present, but it also shows Cate's feisty stubbornness and Bruno's protectiveness of her. In just a few minutes, we have a firm grasp of each character and their relationship with one another, which makes it easy to care about them.

Another example of how good the dialogue is, when Cate meets American
UNITY agent Tom Goodman at a club in Germany.

The story has a strong cinematic feel to it as well, and I don't just mean because of the vast number of lengthy cutscenes. That's certainly part of the reason, but it feels like this game could've been based on a screenplay for an actual movie; the pacing and plot progression is highly cinematic in that sense. It helps that it has you playing out and witnessing all of the calmer moments in the story, doing actual spy work like attending mission briefings and debriefings, visiting Santa to get your new gadgets, meeting up with informants, interrogating henchmen, collecting intelligence, going under cover, sneaking into facilities, interviewing suspects, and so on. In that sense, it's a better James Bond game than actual James Bond games, since all of them focus more on the action side of things -- shooting dudes, getting in car chases, and causing a lot of explosions. NOLF1 does all that stuff too, mind you, but it mixes the pacing up sufficiently so that there's always something new and different to do, and it tries to make you feel more like an actual spy as opposed to generic Action Man Protagonist from any other action shooter.

NOLF1 uses a Thief-like stealth system that allows you to sneak past guards and security cameras by avoiding their line of sight and by minding how much noise you make moving on different types of surfaces. Stealth is required in a few levels, but for the most part it's just an option. If you want to play as a true spy, you can slink around corners and avoid enemies altogether, or administer a silent headshot while they're out of the way (maybe even use some of Santa's body-dissolving solution to clean up the mess before another guard finds out) and proceed without sounding the alarm; if you want to play a Rambo-style action shooter, you can just go in guns blazing and mow down every guard who pops out at you. What's more, you can choose your gadgets and weapons before each mission, so you might deliberately opt to go in with only a silenced pistol and a few gadgets, or perhaps take a shotgun, sniper rifle, and machine gun instead.

It's really in your best interest to try to play stealthily, though, because there are a ton of great conversations between henchmen that you can only eavesdrop on if you approach them without alerting them. It's here where a lot of the humor really comes into play, as henchmen in evil organizations talk about their jobs like it's a normal "nine to five" occupation -- talking about jumping ship for a competing evil organization because they offer dental insurance plans, or venting about how entitled and self-righteous other evil organizations are. One guy talks to his partner about the pros and cons of murdering his mother-in-law, but worries that it would be a little tense with his wife even if she never found out it was him; another guy can be overheard talking romantically to someone about how much he's missed them, and then you open the door and find out he's talking to a goat. A street merchant tries to pawn a monkey off on a henchman, while another henchman goes on a long philosophical tirade about the sociology that leads one to a life of crime.

These are some pretty smart henchmen.

Unfortunately, the stealth system in NOLF1 is kind of broken. Despite taking some of its cues from the highly successful Thief games, NOLF1 doesn't give you enough immersive feedback to monitor how visible you are to guards, who don't have as forgiving of a middle ground state between spotting you and going into full alert. Often times you'll be sneaking your way through a level and a guard will catch a mere glimpse of you and immediately draw his weapon to fire on you, or else immediately start running for the alarm. And once your cover's blown, it's blown for good -- every guard in the area comes pouring into your location, and you have to listen to that obnoxious siren for the entire rest of the level. In the levels where stealth is absolutely mandatory, as in it fails the moment someone spots you, success is entirely a matter of trial-and-error as you figure out a precise series of linear events, one step at a time, so that you can time everything just right. At that point, it's more a matter of manipulating save states than actual stealth.

But man, it's really satisfying when the stealth works and you're able to sneak your way through a level, silently taking out guards, dodging cameras, swiping the intelligence, and making your getaway while that cool, swanky stealth music plays, because you really do feel like a secret agent. These moments, sadly, are rare, as you'll either spend all of your time frustratingly spamming quick-save and quick-load, or else give up on stealth altogether and run around the level shooting everything in sight. It's a shame, really, because the stealth is really, really fun when it works properly. It also speaks to the archaic artificial intelligence in this game, that all enemies in a level have the super human ability to know exactly where you are the moment one of them spots you, like they share a hive mind. This kind of undermines combat as well, because often times the easiest way to clear an area is to set yourself up in a corner and brazenly fire your gun in the air so you can mow down all the enemies as they come streaming towards you.

Combat is fairly standard for a game of NOLF1's age, having been released in 2000, before any more modern gameplay functions started making their way into shooters. There's no regenerating health; any damage you sustain beyond your body armor can never be healed during the mission, and damaged body armor requires you to find spare vests lying around the level. There's no aiming down your sights to line up a shot -- you just run, aim, and shoot with the targeting reticle in the middle of the screen. There's no sprinting -- you either run at normal speed, or you walk to avoid alerting guards. There's no leaning around corners -- you have to step out from behind cover, briefly, to fire shots at enemies. There's no headbob or fully rendered character model for you see as you look down at your feet -- you're just a floating camera with a gun and two arms attached to it. It definitely feels a little primitive, but everything is totally functional, and the animations and sound effects for the various guns make firing them as satisfying as you could ask.

Visiting Santa's Workshop and choosing equipment loadout before a mission.

Where combat gets interesting is with all the different gadgets that Cate has at her disposal, all of which are disguised as various feminine fashion products. She has several tubes of lipstick that double as different types of explosive grenades, and different types of perfume that can be sprayed at enemies to put them to sleep or to kill them in a cloudburst of corrosive acid. The barrette she wears in her hair doubles as a lockpick, and triples as a poison dagger, while her belt buckle doubles as a zip-cord grappling hook. She's even got a briefcase that transforms into a rocket launcher. Other gadgets she can use, which serve less of a combat function but relate to manipulating the environment: her cigarette lighter turns into a welder for cutting open locks and hinges; her makeup compact is a digital decoder; and her sunglasses double as a camera and infrared vision.

All of these gadgets are fairly standard tools that have been featured in a lot of other games, in different ways, but it's NOLF1's unique implementation that makes them so genuinely fun to use. Throwing a grenade around a corner to kill a group of enemies is a fairly mundane task in most other shooters, but it's made special in this game by the mere fact that you're throwing your lipstick at them. Sneaking up to a couple of guards who're busy talking to one another and spraying them with a cloud of acid from a perfume bottle is immensely satisfying. The other tools, like the lockpick, decoder, and welder are fun, too, because they're items that you manually toggle when you need to use them. When you come to a locked door and need to cut it off its hinges, a button prompt doesn't pop up telling you "Press A to weld" as you watch a two second cutscene -- you have to make the mental connection on your own that you can even weld this door, and then you equip your welder, aim it, and take the hinges off yourself. It's a simple thing, really, but it does a tremendous job of connecting you with the environment you're in.

The level design is a mixed bag, on the other hand. For the most part, levels are a matter of "go here, then go here." There's plenty of opportunity to explore side routes and find hidden areas, but there's always only one route through the actual level -- everything else is just an awkward dead end. When you arrive at the space station, for instance, you get in an elevator that can take you to one of four different decks on the station, but when you press the button it automatically takes you to the next deck you're supposed to go to. It seemed like an opportunity for a nifty hub system, but alas, it was just another linear level. The level design excels, however, at putting you in a huge variety of locations with a lot of truly memorable areas and sequences. The Moroccan hotel, the German club, the train, falling out of an airplane and stealing a parachute from a guy in mid fall, riding a snowmobile through the Alps, fighting your way through the jungle, riding a rocket up to the space station, scuba diving into the wrecked freighter and fighting off sharks with a spear gun, breaking into the vault by dodging laser beams -- there're a lot of good, memorable sequences in this game that you just won't find in any other game.

The famous airplane level, complete with skydiving. Skip to 1:19 for gameplay.

The game's final act demonstrates just how much stuff Monolith packed into this game. After you've finally figured out who the mastermind behind HARM's schemes is and what they're ultimately planning, the game starts building towards its finale with a few more missions before finally arriving at its climax, which throws constant twists and extra objectives at you, keeping the action and story moving forward through what feels like five or six different endings. Without spoiling anything, this is how the ending sequences play out: you fight a boss, then you stop the big bad guy, then you find out you've been poisoned and have to rush to find the antidote, then you fight a series of mini-bosses, then you have to escape from the building before it explodes, then you fight another boss, then you fight the real final boss, then you have to rush to rescue civilians, then you're confronted by the UNITY traitor, then you meet another unexpected traitor, and then you finally get to watch the final resolution. Then once the credits finish rolling, you get yet another teaser.

There are so many levels and cutscenes in this game that the campaign will last you 15-20 hours, which is a tremendous value for a shooter, considering that most modern shooters only last half that amount of time. And while it's a fairly long game, it never feels like it because it's always mixing the formula up by introducing you to new things, whether that be new gameplay mechanics in the form of your new spy gadgets that progressively unlock over the course of the game, or whether it's the sheer variety of locations you visit and types of missions you're assigned. Missions vary from undercover operations where you're talking to people and trying not to blow your cover, to stealth infiltrations where you're trying not to get caught, to vehicle levels where you're riding a motorcycle through the jungle or a snowmobile through the Alps, to more standard shooter gameplay where you fight your way through HARM's henchmen with a full arsenal of guns.

The trailer for the PS2 version of the game.

Since the game isn't available for digital download, your only options for playing NOLF1 are to track down a physical copy of the PC version, or track down a physical copy of the PS2 port. I still had my PC disks lying around, but unfortunately couldn't get the game to work properly on my 64-bit Windows 7 operating system, even while running third-party compatibility patches. Fortunately, I had bought a PS2 copy of the game back in the day, which I was able to pop right into my PS2 and start playing immediately. Unfortunately, the PS2 version is a notably inferior version of the game, being locked at a lower resolution and frame rate, with worse textures and tons of missing graphical assets. Worse yet is the game's checkpoint-only save system that forces you to replay entire scenes of a level any time you die, or get caught in a mandatory stealth section. This was such a tedious process that I turned the difficulty down to easy and enabled auto-aim just to minimize the chance of me getting killed, but sadly that doesn't help any in the clunky, trial-and-error stealth levels, or platforming sections where you miss a jump or mistime a step and die instantly. In the PS2 version's favor, however, is the fact that it has a few bonus missions not featured in the PC version, which give you playable flashbacks of Cate's previous life as a cat burglar.

One notable difference between the PC and PS2 versions is that they use completely different soundtracks. The PC version uses music by Guy Whitmore, which aims to capture the musical style of 50s/60s spy movies, and it does a pretty good job of that with its groovy rhythms and swinging melodies being a strong factor in giving the game its unique period feeling. Listen to tracks like The Assignment, Hotel Morocco, and Cable Car for a sampling of his work in NOLF1. The PS2 version, on the other hand, uses music by Rebecca Kneubuhl, who I feel actually did a better job. As a bass player and brass musician, I have greater appreciation for her arrangements' more prevalent bass and horn lines, but I also feel like her music sets the mood better for specific locations. Consider that Kneubuhl's track for Morocco uses wooden flutes and hand drums, which I feel matches the setting better than Whitmore's electric guitar and brass horns. Berlin by Night (Scene 2) is a great track for somber moments and calmer exploration, and Nine Years Ago is such an awesome, kick-ass track that I was listening it to long after finishing the game. Kneubuhl also wrote the bonus soundtrack CD that came with the PC version, called "In the Lounge," which is great, phenomenal listening as well, but sadly doesn't appear in the game. Seriously, cue up "In the Lounge" and listen to it while you read the rest of this article.


No One Lives Forever 2: A Spy inHARM's Way

Picking up where NOLF1 left off, Cate Archer is now a full-fledged and respected agent of UNITY. Now that the agency knows the identity of HARM's true Director, Cate is sent to Japan to eavesdrop on a meeting between the Director and an unknown accomplice. After meeting with an informant and getting pictures of the Director's meeting, Cate is ambushed by the Director's right hand, Isako -- member of an all-female clan of ninjas. Cate is left for dead after sustaining a stab wound through her chest, near her shoulder, but is recovered by UNITY agents and nursed back to health in a few weeks. In the meantime, UNITY has been informed by American military intelligence agents that tensions are rising between them and the Soviet Union over the island of Khios, which Cate heard mentioned in passing during the meeting with the Director. The rest of the game sees Cate traveling to Siberia, Ohio, India, and Antarctica, trying to stop HARM from causing World War 3 with their new super soldiers, over the island of Khios.

As you'd expect a developer to do any time they work on a sequel, Monolith took into consideration all the praise and criticism of NOLF1 and tweaked things for NOLF2, some for the better, and unfortunately, some for the worse. The gameplay is much improved, but that sadly comes at the expense of the plot and atmosphere, which were arguably the main selling points of NOLF1. NOLF1's story was much more personal and engaging, with Cate struggling to prove herself in a world dominated by men and trying to avenge the death of her mentor and close friend, Bruno, while dealing with the internal threat of a mole within the agency going around assassinating other field agents. It had exciting twists as main characters died and as the mystery built towards dramatic reveals. NOLF2's story, in contrast, is much less interesting because everything is already established from the beginning -- Cate's already a respected field agent at the start, and we already know who HARM is, who their Director is, and what their general plans are -- leaving little room for compelling discoveries. It's really quite straightforward.

The introduction cutscenes and Cate's first mission in Japan.

Probably the best thing about NOLF2's story is how much it references the previous game. Besides major things like Magnus Armstrong coming back (and becoming an ally, which is a pretty fun twist) and visiting Tom Goodman's old house in Cincinnati, there are a lot of smaller nods and references if you pay enough attention. In the Moroccan hotel of NOLF1, you find a letter from a man named Clark, in which he writes to his wife that he was actually a secret agent using her for cover, and that he was going to leave her; in NOLF2, you find a letter from Clark in which he regrets his decision to leave her and wants her back. In NOLF1, you overhear soviet guards talk about the US having plans to equip sharks with nukes that they'd send up the river to attack; in NOLF2, you get on board the underwater base by piloting a submarine disguised as a shark. In NOLF1, you find a lot of notes from HARM tracking down pieces of some type of high-tech gizmo known as the CT-180, as well as a few UNITY researchers talking about designs for other CT models; in NOLF2, you get to use the CT-180 as an actual gadget. It's mostly all minor stuff, but they're fun things to discover and really help tie the series together.

Apparently enough people complained about the long downtime between missions, watching cutscenes and going through gadget training, that Monolith cut the tutorials out completely and scaled way back on the cutscenes. Mission briefings now happen at the beginning of levels via radio communication with UNITY headquarters, and gadget training now happens mid-mission via robotic birds sent ahead by Santa that let him break the fourth wall by explaining game mechanics to you ("Try to complete optional objectives; you wouldn't want to miss out on the skill point bonus!"). That's all fine for speeding up the pace of the game, but I do miss the rhythmic pattern of returning to base between missions to discuss what went wrong and to prepare for the next one, especially since the effort to streamline the cutscene transitions is often so abrupt and jarring. Just watch how the game transitions from chapter six to chapter seven -- the cuts are so quick that it feels awkward, as if you're skipping past stuff you should be seeing, like establishing shots, film wipes or fade transitions, expositional dialogue, and other stuff that helps you mentally move from one point to another in a linear story.

NOLF1 had its moments of campiness and absurdity, but they were tastefully balanced against the game's generally quite serious premise, which made the oddball moments of parody and humor stand out positively. In NOLF2, it feels like they're deliberately going overboard on the absurd humor until it almost becomes a cartoonish farce. Magnus Armstrong and Inge Wagner were comically absurd Scottish and German stereotypes in NOLF1, but they each had their own personality and role within the story, with their own motivations and subplots. In NOLF2, their roles as the villainous henchmen are replaced by a French unicycle-riding midget mime, because that's amusing, right? He and his army of mime goons show up at various points throughout the game, but he's really not involved in the story -- he was put into the game just so that you can shoot at mimes who reflexively mime inbetween being shot, because that's so ridiculous it's funny, right? Right? I mean, it kind of is, but it's so over the top that it feels like a cheap gimmick. Meanwhile, the Director is portrayed almost like a Dr Evil character with his absurd gameshow-style torture device that mangles his own henchmen into living cubes and his ridiculous "artificial volcano" lair and underwater base.

HARM's "Man-Handler" torture device.

There's a lot less variety in the game as well, partly because NOLF2 is much shorter than its predecessor, with a campaign clocking in at roughly 10 hours. Some locations feel too similar and repetitive; the Siberia mission is easily the longest one in the game, and later on you're sent to Antarctica, which feels like a rehash of Siberia with its snowy exteriors and bland facilities. The India mission is the next-longest one in the game, and after finishing that one you're sent on a brief detour, only to get sent right back into India. You spend almost half of the game in these two locations, with short side trips to Japan, Cincinnati, Antarctica, the UNITY headquarters, HARM's underwater base, the Director's "artificial volcano" lair, and Khios. The aesthetic variety is definitely there, but there's not as much mechanical variety because most of the missions involve the same type of gameplay. There are a lot fewer missions about blending in with civilians and talking to people, only one mission with a vehicle, and nothing nearly as unique or memorable as parachuting out of an airplane or scuba diving through a sunken freighter.

Most of the levels are still pretty good, though. Siberia has a lot of cool things going on, what with you being able to ride a snowmobile through the level and doing some of the preliminary objectives, like disabling the tower and visiting the cabin, in whatever order you want. As the first full mission in the game, you can tell they put a lot of effort into making it the most grand and complex one. Cincinnati is a fairly memorable level, too, because it has a lot of scripted events with a tornado plowing through the residential area and eventually destroying the trailer park, knocking trailers over and sucking entire trailers up into the sky. Antarctica features no combat whatsoever, and offers a fairly interesting atmosphere as you explore an abandoned research facility solving simple environmental puzzles. It's fun to be able to explore more of the UNITY headquarters, like you could in limited areas of NOLF1, and the underwater base has a lot of neat environments.

While there's not as much variety between levels, the actual level design feels much tighter in NOLF2. In NOLF1, it was sometimes a little too easy to wander down the wrong path and find yourself at a dead end, wondering where the heck you're actually supposed to go in the level. The levels in NOLF2 flow a lot better, so that it's generally easier to tell where you're supposed to be going at any one time. In that sense, the levels are actually a little more linear than in NOLF1, but at least you don't spend as much time back-tracking and wandering around feeling completely lost. What I feel is indisputably better about the level design in NOLF2, however, is that levels often give you the chance to initiate combat under your own terms; they let you see the situation up ahead (what guards are positioned where, what your angles of approach are), and they let you choose how you'll tackle the situation. You might go straight up the middle, or try to flank them from the right, or find a secret route on the left that will let you get them all from behind.

Like NOLF1, these henchmen are pretty smart, too.

As with NOLF1, NOLF2 is primarily a first-person shooter, but it also has adventure game-style elements to it, like going to a certain location to do non-combat things. At the start of mission two, in Siberia, for instance, you have to break into a cabin, restart the generator, radio headquarters, then you've got to enter the combination to the padlock for the shed, then get gasoline for the snowmobile from a nearby soviet cabin, then you're crawling on the support beams under a bridge setting explosive charges, all while only fighting about six or nine guys in total, two or three at time. As such, NOLF2 is a FPS that's as much about exploration and interacting with the environment as it is about shooting dudes, if not more. This is one area where Monolith improved the gameplay, with a new emphasis on searching bodies for loot and extra intelligence, and searching through filing cabinets and stacks of paper for intelligence, in addition to levels like Cincinnati and Antarctica that are more about exploring and solving simple environmental puzzles than they are about combat.

The biggest change to NOLF2's gameplay is the inclusion of an experience points-based skill system, that has you earning skill points for completing objectives and gathering intelligence. It's a great thing, because it gives you psychological and practical rewards for doing things in the game, which you can apply to make your character better at various tasks. It also adds to the overall strategy of the game, because you have to choose how to invest your skill points between the different skills, which can help shape your playstyle. If you want to be a guns-blazing maniac, you can put your points exclusively into marksmanship and/or weapons, which will improve your damage, accuracy, recoil reduction, and reload speed with firearms. But then, how do you want to balance offense with defense? Perhaps you should put some points into stamina and/or armor so you can survive hits better, or maybe you should put points into carrying so that you can load up on more ammunition. If you want to be more of a traditional spy, you might put points into gadgets, search, and stealth instead.

The stealth system is another major improvement in NOLF2, since it actually works this time around. One of the skills is stealth, which determines how quickly you can go into hiding by remaining still in certain out-of-the-way spots like dark corners. Most importantly, the stealth system is much more forgiving than in NOLF1: when you're spotted, guards go into a type of "investigate mode" which gives you a chance to run away and hide before they start attacking you, or else take them out before they can alert their buddies. If an alarm is sounded, it only goes for a few minutes before everyone eventually resets to their normal patrols, if you stay out of sight long enough. Missions where stealth is mandatory only end if you're actually apprehended, as opposed to the moment you're spotted. With the inclusion of the CT-180 Utility Launcher, a type of pistol that shoots special ammunition, you can disable cameras or mark guards on your radar so you can keep track of them more easily. You can lean around corners to see where you're going better before stepping out of cover, you can turn off lights and close doors to stay hidden better, and you can pick up and move dead or unconscious bodies.

The tricycle chase scene is one of NOLF2's most memorable moments.

The only problem with stealth is that actually finding those pre-coded hiding spots is a little finicky. You might break line of sight from your pursuers and position yourself in a corner behind some obstacles, only to find that spot wasn't actually intended to be a hiding spot, and so they keep coming directly for you and quickly find you. I also feel like the guards are a little too perceptive; while walking through the snow in Siberia, you leave footprints behind, and if a guard sees them, he immediately goes to investigate for intruders. Seems to me like, in an area where other guards are frequently patrolling, seeing footprints in the snow wouldn't be all that suspicious. In other situations where guards are sleeping (either in beds or while sitting in chairs), if you turn out the lights they immediately take notice and wake up to go search for the intruder. That's yet another case where I have to wonder "how do they even realize the lights are off, and why would that be so suspicious to them?"

A lot of levels feature infinite respawn, constantly trickling extra guards into the level through transitions to other areas, to replace guards that you kill. This feature garnered a lot of harsh criticism at the time, and it was annoying the crap out of me at first once I realized it was happening, because it felt like the game was deliberately undoing my progress by making me repeat myself, constantly taking out more guards, searching their corpses, and relocating them to an obscure corner of the map. And then I realized something: most of the skills are meant to make you perform actions more quickly -- searching bodies or stacks of paper for intelligence, picking locks or decoding keypads, going into hiding, moving bodies, etc -- and so the game requires you to be constantly under pressure in order for these skill upgrades to be practical. Otherwise, you could just kill every guard in the level and take all the time you want to hack terminals and search for intelligence, which would render most of the skills utterly pointless. Once I realized this, I finally started using all the skill points I'd been hoarding, and the game became so much more interesting with me trying not to kill guards, if I could avoid it, because I'd just be dealing with their replacements later, anyway, and trying to move from area to area grabbing all of the intelligence without getting caught. It was tense and exciting.

Finally, I should mention the obvious upgrades to the Lithtech engine, which renders the game with far, far better detail than NOLF1. At this point in time, NOLF1 looks really old with its blocky character models and awkward, stiff animations. The faces in NOLF1, in particular, were a little weird, with Cate's angled eyes and accented cheekbones making her look a bit like an alien, and the shading of Bruno's wrinkles making him look like he was spliced with pug DNA, or Mr Smith's permanently cocked eyebrow or Tom Goodman's permanently beaming smile. Everyone in NOLF2 looks much more realistic, with much less noticeable polygons and way smoother animations. If NOLF1 looks almost too old to be any good, just judging by its graphics, then NOLF2 still looks like a fine, playable game. Meanwhile, I'm also not a huge fan of the music in NOLF2. It's all fine and good, especially since it all culturally reflects the different locations (music in Japan has a definite Japanese vibe to it, music in India definitely feels Indian, etc), but only a few of the tracks really capture that groovy 60s spy music feeling, which was a large part of NOLF1's aesthetic appeal. It can get awfully repetitive, too, with you listening to that one 90-second Siberia track on repeat for a couple hours.


Contract JACK

"The official prequel to GameSpy's 2002 PC Game of the Year No One Lives Forever 2," is essentially a stand-alone expansion for NOLF2 in which you play as some dude named Jack, hired by HARM's Dmitrij Volkov to kill some dude named Il Pazzo from some rival criminal orginization named Danger Danger. None of the story really matters because it's not connected to the NOLF series in any way, apart from the presence of Volkov and one minor side character from the streets of India, and the general premise of working for HARM. You see a few wanted posters bearing Cate's image, and you even catch a glimpse of her during one of the missions, but otherwise it's a completely separate storyline. The "amazing cliff-hanger that sets the stage for NOLF2," as the back of the box advertises, is an utterly tiny, insignificant detail that implies how Volkov got hurt during his skiing trip.

I won't bother going into too much detail on this one, because Contract JACK is rubbish -- it's a complete departure from everything that made the NOLF games so great. The skills system from NOLF2 is gone, there's no more hunting for amusing bits of intelligence, way fewer guard dialogues, no more gadgets, no more stealth, no more infiltration, no more mingling with civilians, no more humor, no more exploration, and no more Cate. No more having an interesting protagonist we care about, either -- Jack's completely silent and emotionless throughout virtually the entire game, and we learn nothing about his backstory whatosever. It's basically a mindless action shooter in the NOLF setting so that Monolith could recycle a bunch of assets and cash in on the relative success and popularity of NOLF2 for a quick and easy dollar. You use mostly all of the same weapons from NOLF2, and you see a lot of the same environments, models, and textures from NOLF2, with even the same music. After hearing that Siberia music on endless repeat during NOLF2, I died a little inside when I had to listen to it all over again in Czechoslovakia, and it was a little hard to feel excited about being on the moon base when I immediately recognized the underwater base music playing.

The trailer for Contract JACK.

So it's no NOLF game, but even when treating it as a straightforward action game, it's dull. Levels consist entirely of linear maps in tight quarters where literally dozens of guards bust out of doors from every direction and hurl themselves at you. Their AI is completely moronic, as they all just come streaming towards you like lemmings in a conga line with no concept of self-preservation, blindly charging around corners even after seeing a dozen of their comrades mowed down. This is the type of game where you fire literally thousands of bullets and kill hundreds of dudes in a single level, all in straightforward maps with standard FPS weaponry (no gadgets, no special ammo types). You can't even treat it like a fun run-and-gun shooter a la Painkiller or Serious Sam because you'll just get decimated by the dozens and dozens of dudes that practically come out of the woodwork from every single angle, with every single step you take through the level, and you can't treat it like a fun tactical shooter because the enemy AI and level design is so thoroughly mediocre.

On the bright side, Monolith finally put some damn weapons on the vehicles, a feature that was sorely lacking in both NOLF1 and NOLF2 -- it was really clunky and awkward having to stop the vehicles and get off just to fire your gun for a few seconds, and then get back on -- and the moon base level is actually pretty cool. It's basically the only level where you do anything besides shoot hundreds of dudes, since it has you moving platforms into position, moving the arms of a turbine out of the way, getting an oxygen tank for the airlock, and recharging the batteries for the mining laser, with a little bit of clever backtracking and remembering where things are, in addition to killing hundreds of dudes with cool laser rifles. The visuals of walking around the surface of the moon, seeing the earth in the sky above you is awesome, and the sequence where you're floating through space bouncing off the debris from the exploded moon base is cool, too. Perhaps fortunately, there are only 10 levels spread across seven chapters, so at least it's a quick play, though perhaps not much value for the money people spent on it when it was new.


In Conclusion

The NOLF games are some of my favorite shooters of all time, and probably rank among my top 20 favorite games in general. That 1960s Austin Powers-style spy shooter theme, with its blend of stealth and action with a solid story and an amusing sense of humor, gives the series its own unique flair that you just can't find anywhere else. Cate Archer is one of the best heroines of any video game, ever. They were pretty smart games for their time, too, capturing a lot of the best qualities of some of the best shooters at the time and sewing them together in one complete, wonderfully stylish package. If you liked Half-Life, Deus Ex, or GoldenEye (or any of the Bond games, really), or even the original Thief games, then it's a safe bet you'll probably enjoy No One Lives Forever.

Sadly, since the games aren't available for digital downloads and are mostly incompatible with modern operating systems, you might be out of luck if you'd like to actually play them. If you want to run either of the games legally, you'll have to track down physical copies and hope you have an old desktop that'll run them. Fortunately, I can confirm that NOLF2 runs on Windows 7 using a third-party installer, and if you still have a PS2, you can acquire the PS2 version of NOLF1 for just a few bucks online. Of course, with the copyright being in no man's land and there being no easy way to play these games legally, this is a rare situation where I might also suggest pirating them. You'll probably still run into troubles getting NOLF1 to work on a modern computer, in which case you might resort to emulating the PS2 version on your computer.

My Top 10 Favorite First-Person Shooters

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In my recent review of the No One Lives Forever series, I made the comment that those games were among my favorite first-person shooters of all time. That's how I felt when I first played them ten years ago, and replaying them a few weeks ago reminded me of just how much fun they remain, even to this day. That got me thinking: where would I actually rank them among the dozens of FPS games I've played in my lifetime? Thus, after some thought and consideration, I came up with this list of my top ten favorite first-person shooters. Spoiler alert: No One Lives Forever and Doom will be somewhere on this list.

The games that made it on to this list, as well as their relative rankings, are based on the following criteria: (1) How good do I feel the game is, (2) How much of an impact did the game have on me as a gamer, and (3) How interested would I be in replaying the game right now. I also wanted to include only games where FPS gameplay is the primary, defining element; a game like Vampire: The Masquerade - Bloodlines would rank higher than a lot of games on this list, but it's an RPG first and foremost, so I had to exclude it. And as much as I wanted to include Metroid Prime, it's really not an FPS at its heart, even though FPS gameplay is a major part of it. Spoiler alert: Vampire Bloodlines and Metroid Prime will not be on this list.



#10: Painkiller

Released in 2004 by People Can Fly, Painkiller is a rare game where "style over substance" actually works in its favor. While the industry was shifting towards more realistic military and special forces shooters like Call of Duty and Rainbow Six, in which players had to think about things like cover, positioning, and suppressing fire, while fighting against squads of other armed humans, Painkiller rose from the ashes of an older generation of shooters like Doom and Quake, which were all about putting the player in outlandish environments to run around frantically murdering demons and monsters by the hundreds with an arsenal of powerful guns.

Painkiller was a reminder of just how much fun an FPS can be when it focuses purely on the frenetic action. It deliberately eschewed all of the modern FPS trends like cover systems, escort missions, and vehicles in favor of embellishing the core experience with unique weaponry, varied enemies, and exotic environments, while emphasizing a much faster pace of run-and-gun shooting. I mean, the shotgun causes ridiculous knockback on enemies and can be alt-fired to shoot a freezing blast that encases enemies in ice, which then shatters if you hit them again. The chaingun alt-fires rockets. There's a gun that shoots giant wooden stakes that pin enemies to walls. Another gun shoots shurikens and lightning. It's an immensely satisfying game, just on a purely mechanical level, and the visual design of the enemies and environments lend it a lot of fun flair.


(1) How good is it? Painkiller is possibly the best "old school throwback" FPS I've played, that came out after the heyday of shooters from the mid-to-late 90s. It's tremendous fun when you just want to shut your brain off and release some cathartic tension shooting tons of dudes.

(2) How much of an impact did it have on me? Not a lot, I suppose, since it deliberately tries to mimic older games, but it did show me how much fun a game can be when the development team gets creative and breaks out from the cliche FPS standards, in terms of its utterly unique weaponry.

(3) How interested would I be in replaying it right now? Honestly, I've played it enough times over the years that, if I wanted to play a game like this again, I'd rather try something I haven't already played. While I probably won't be replaying it any time soon, I can almost guarantee I'd get hooked and play it all the way through if I were to start it up again.



#9: Perfect Dark

Rareware's 2000 followup to GoldenEye, Perfect Dark took the successful formula of GoldenEye and improved it in every way: better enemy AI, better level design, more weapons, more unique weapons, more enemy types, and vastly expanded, fully customiz-able multiplayer options, complete with bots. Perfect Dark packed so much extra, higher-quality stuff into the lauded GoldenEye experience that it actually required the 4MB expansion pack just to run the game. It was, in essence, a perfect (spiritual) sequel to an already-legendary game.

Perfect Dark was one of the first games that I ever became truly obsessed with; I played it for several hours every day, meticulously working through the main campaign on all difficulties and frequently dabbling in its other modes (like cooperative and counter-operative). But mostly, I played the hell out of the multiplayer, feverishly working on different achievements to unlock extra options and customizations, and convinced all my friends to come over as often as possible to play it. When I couldn't play with other people locally, I participated in an online role-playing game on GameFAQs, called the Perfect Dark Battle Arena, which became the basis of a lot of my online friendships in the early days of mainstream home internet access.


(1) How good is it? I think Perfect Dark is easily the best console FPS of its generation. It wasn't until the following generation of consoles that FPS games really took off, and Perfect Dark still rated highly compared to newer games coming out in the years following its original release. I still feel like it's a better game than Halo in a lot of ways.

(2) How much of an impact did it have on me? Of all the games on the list, Perfect Dark had the greatest impact. I played it religiously back in the day, and it was the one game (after Doom) that really sold me on FPS games. Furthermore, my time with the Perfect Dark-themed online role-playing game helped hone my creative writing skills tremendously. Or at least, got me started down that path.

(3) How interested would I be in replaying it right now? Very little. I played the hell out of this game back in the day, to the point that I still remember where to find all the hidden cheese easter eggs. I feel like there'd be nothing new remaining for me to discover, but really, I just have no desire to go back to that archaic N64 controller. Perhaps if I had an Xbox and could play the remastered version on XBLA.



#8: Borderlands 2

Released in late 2009, right when Call of Duty: Modern Warfare fatigue was just starting to set in, Borderlands was a breath of fresh air in an industry that was becoming a little too enamored with the "gritty realistic military shooter" fad. Borderlands offered something completely different: a semi-open world with RPG-style quests and character progression, and a Diablo-style loot system wherein enemies randomly dropped weapons with randomized stats and effects. It was a great idea that was, admittedly, a little stale and repetitive, but that didn't stop me from becoming addicted to the leveling and loot systems, grinding out hundreds of hours across multiple characters and replaying it in new-game-plus mode, trying to hit the level cap and acquire all the best legendary loot.

Its sequel from 2012, Borderlands 2, was a major improvement in basically every way. It was as a sequel should be: retaining all the best elements of the original game, while polishing up its rough edges and adding some fun new features to the mix. Borderlands 2 added a lot of variety to Pandora's wastelands, both visually and mechanically, and tightened up the quest structure and main storyline so that the pacing flowed at a much more engaging clip. But as with the first game, the thing that kept me coming back to Borderlands 2 for 339 hours across multiple characters and playthroughs, was the thrill of joining up with a bunch of different friends to work through the main campaign and to tackle tough epic bosses together, in addition to leveling up to try out new skill combinations, and constantly finding newer and better weapons to play with. Plus, the games actually have a fairly old-school vibe to their combat, which makes the action fairly intense and exciting.


(1) How good is it? Borderlands 2 stands out mainly for its uniqueness, more so than its overall quality. Each of its primary elements (open-world exploration, randomized loot, RPG-style character progression, FPS combat) has been done better in some other game, but Borderlands 2 is a rare combination of all of those elements where everything just meshes into one solid, coherent experience.

(2) How much of an impact did it have on me? I don't think I ever experienced any grand revelations playing Borderlands, apart from the realization that variable reinforcement can be tremendously addicting, hence why people get addicted to gambling so easily. Being one of the most recent games on this list, my tastes and interests were already developed by the time I played it.

(3) How interested would I be in replaying it right now? I sunk so much time into Borderlands 2 (it's currently my second-most played game on Steam) that I'm basically worn out on the idea of playing the series any more -- hence why I never felt any interest in The Pre-Sequel. That said, I don't have much experience playing some of the other classes, so it could be fun to give them a shot some time further down the line, in a few more years.



#7: Killing Floor

Man, that cover does nothing to impress upon you what kind of game Killing Floor actually is. That's a shame, but I guess box art wasn't much of a consideration for a game whose main selling platform was on Steam. Killing Floor -- a co-op shooter in which you fight against waves of increasingly-stronger genetically-altered zombie-like specimen known as "zeds," stopping at a trader between rounds to buy better and better weaponry before facing the boss at the end of the final wave -- began in 2005 as an Unreal Tournament mod, and found its way to a stand-alone commercial release in 2009. Developer Tripwire Interactive continued to support the game for years after release, updating the game with new weapons, new classes, new maps, new enemies, and even a new game mode.

Killing Floor was consistently one of Steam's most actively played online shooters over its lifespan, and even though the release of Killing Floor 2 has drawn a lot of the playerbase over to the newer game, a lot of people are still actively playing KF1. It's no wonder, because the gunplay in KF1 is top notch, with the heavy recoil animations, sound effects, and looking down the 3D model of the gun as you line up shots (along with the satisfying crunch and pop, followed by a spray of blood when you decapitate an enemy) making it feel like you're firing actual guns with realistic weight and response. That wasn't the only thing that kept me playing for 700+ hours over the span of five years, though -- it was also the game's rewarding difficulty progression.  As you leveled up your perks, you got stronger and gained new passive abilities, which allowed you to move up to higher difficulties where the challenge got even stronger, and where you had to learn different tactics and work together as a team much more closely to be successful.


(1) How good is it? I've played a fair amount of online shooters over the years, and Killing Floor is one of very few that managed to hold my attention for any serious amount of time. It still holds up pretty well, and is a great way to pass some time and blow off some steam (or a zombie's head).

(2) How much of an impact did it have on me? Killing Floor was one of the first games I ever played where I actually felt like I was looking down the sights of an actual weapon, instead up just lining up some kind of overlay on my target. It made it difficult for me to appreciate how the guns felt in a lot of other shooters.

(3) How interested would I be in replaying it right now? I've been playing Killing Floor 2 on and off since April 2015, while it goes through Early Access, and I still occasionally boot up KF1 for a match, because some of the mechanics from that game are actually better than what's on offer in KF2.



#6: No One Lives Forever

I'm lumping both of the No One Lives Forever games into this slot, because it's too difficult to pick just one, and because they complement each other so well that, if you're going to play one of them, you should really also play the other. Released in 2000 and 2002, the NOLF series follows secret agent Cate Archer attempting to thwart a villainous criminal organization from rising to power in the 1960s. The games are heavily story-driven, and offer a blend of stealth gameplay and action shooting, with a lot of fun spy gadgets and occasional vehicles thrown into the mix. As a spy, you spend the bulk of the game breaking into secured facilities, searching the environment for intelligence items, and fighting the badguy's henchmen.

The NOLF series does a really good job of making you feel like a spy, with all of its highly thematic objectives: blending in with civilians on the streets, meeting up with informants, going undercover to interview a suspect, attending mission briefings and debriefings, visiting Santa's workshop to get your new spy gadgets, etc. The level design also offers some of the most unique and memorable level sequences of any game, ever, with you skydiving out of an exploded airplane and battling henchmen to get hold of a parachute, scuba diving through a wrecked freighter fighting off sharks with a harpoon gun, riding a rocket up to a space station, breaking into a laser-secured vault, and so on. And, as story-driven games, the NOLF series (the first one in particular) has one of the more engaging stories of any FPS.


(1) How good is it? No One Lives Forever is like a blend of Half-Life, GoldenEye, and Deus Ex, all considered to be some of the best FPS games of their time, and NOLF ranks right up there will all of those games. It's actually better than them in some ways.

(2) How much of an impact did it have on me? This was one of the first PC-exclusive shooters I ever played. I don't think No One Lives Forever brought anything new to my experiences as a gamer, but it was one of the game series that helped convert me into a PC gamer.

(3) How interested would I be in replaying it right now? I literally just replayed both games in this series, so I don't think I'll be playing them again any time soon. But, the fact that I replayed them so recently, and enjoyed both games immensely nearly 10 years after playing them originally, says a lot in their favor.



#5: System Shock 2

Hailing from 1999, System Shock 2 is one of the oldest games on this list. It is, essentially, the grandfather of FPS-RPGs, and it established a lot of techniques that would become common place in science fiction and horror games for years to come. In System Shock 2, you play a military soldier on board the Von Braun, an experimental faster-than-light space ship setting off on its maiden voyage. You go into deep space hibernation and wake up some time later, after some kind of catastrophe has struck the Von Braun, killing most of the crew and turning many of them into mutated alien hybrids. With the ship falling apart, its security systems working against you, and the remnants of its mutated crew mindlessly roaming the halls, you have to find a way to stop the catastrophe, and find a way off the ship.

What made System Shock 2 such a momentous game, besides its great space-horror atmosphere, was its inclusion of RPG-style leveling systems and skills. You were rewarded for completing objectives, solving challenges, and exploring hidden areas of the ship with cyber modules, which you could spend at stations on the ship to improve your hacking abilities, your weapon proficiency, your ability to modify and repair equipment, or even your psionic abilities (which function like magic spells in a fantasy game), among other skills, in addition to increasing your stats like your strength, endurance, agility, and so on. With its emphasis on open-ended character development, it was one of the first FPS games that was designed to allow for multiple ways to solve a problem, which is a large part of what makes it so satisfying and rewarding to play, because it offers players a lot of meaningful choices that will alter the way the game plays out.


(1) How good is it? The fact that I played it for the first time a mere year ago, and that it checks in at number five in this top 10 list, should say enough about how good I feel System Shock 2 is. This ranking isn't inflated by nostalgic memories or anything -- I just feel like it's a legitimately good game.

(2) How much of an impact did it have on me? Like with Borderlands 2, I played this one so recently that it had no chance to influence my tastes or interests in games. I wasn't that fond of the BioShock games to begin with, but after playing System Shock 2 I'm more convinced than ever how thoroughly mediocre they really are.

(3) How interested would I be in replaying it right now? I just played it for the first time a year ago, so I'm in no rush to play it again. However, there was a lot of content I missed out on in my first playthrough, so I'd be eager to try different character builds and see how the gameplay changes.



#4: FEAR

Monolith earns special recognition as the only developer with two games on this list: No One Lives Forever, and FEAR. Released in 2005, FEAR is a visceral FPS with psychological horror elements. You play as the nameless point man of a special forces group known by their acronym FEAR, which supposedly stands for First Encounter Assault Recon, on a mission to retrieve and/or eliminate an escaped research subject named Paxton Fettel, who took telepathic control of a group of super soldiers and is now loose in the city. Two things set FEAR apart from the bulk of other FPS games; one is its "reflex time" feature, which lets you slow down time to fire bullets with pinpoint precision a la The Matrix or Max Payne, and the other is its moments of scripted horror, when the pointman experiences frightening hallucinations or is attacked by Alma, another escaped research subject with psychokinetic and telepathic powers.

The horror sequences in FEAR were some of the most unnerving and, at times, startling moments I'd ever experienced in a video game. Things like walking down a hallway, and suddenly finding yourself in another hallway with blood pooling up on the ceiling, or having Alma suddenly appear behind you as you descend a ladder, were really creepy at the time. It's hard to feel truly scared during these moments because you're usually not vulnerable to anything -- they're just weird things happening around you -- but they create a great atmosphere for the game and do a good enough job of putting you a little on edge. The combat, meanwhile, is still some of the best I've ever experienced in a FPS. The enemy AI was really advanced for its time, with enemies moving intelligently throughout the level trying to flank you and flush you out with grenades or pin you down with suppressing fire. This, combined with the level design, ensured that you could save the game before a fight, play it two or three different times, and have vastly different outcomes. This lent the game a strong tactical feel to it, while the slow-motion bullet-time effects were just downright awesome.


(1) How good is it? Few games I've ever played have had gunfights as good as the ones in FEAR, which are both mechanically and aesthetically satisfying, offering a lot of atmospheric punch with clever enemies and level design that encourages you to think and use the environment to your advantage.

(2) How much of an impact did it have on me? As with NOLF, FEAR was one of the first PC shooters I played when I bought my first PC, and I was blown away by how much smarter and more sophisticated it felt compared to anything else I'd played at the time. Plus, it was, at one point, one of the scariest horror games I'd ever played.

(3) How interested would I be in replaying it right now? Of all the games on my list, this is the one I'd like to replay most. I've replayed everything else at least once before, but I only ever played FEAR once in 2006, about a year after it was released. Hopefully I haven't become so jaded by horror cliches that I would still be able to appreciate its atmosphere and scary moments.



#3: Doom

Released in 1993 by id Software, Doom was the game that basically created the first-person shooter. There had been other games before it, certainly (namely, Wolfenstein 3D the year prior, also by id Software), but it was Doom that popularized the concept of "modern" FPS games. It was Doom that became the basis on which virtually all FPS games in the years to follow would model themselves, spawning years upon years worth of "doom-clones" before Half-Life came along in 1998 and changed the formula. Doom's place on this list is partly out of respect for its historical context, but I played it a lot as a kid in the mid 90s, once in high school, and once again in college, and I feel like it's held up tremendously well every time I've played it.

I played the hell out the shareware version of Doom back in the day. I was only about six or eight at the time, so I recall mostly playing on easy ("I'm too young to die") and enabling cheats like invincibility, infinite ammo, and unlocking all guns, so I could go around blasting everything in sight with the rocket launcher or BFG. I also remember being amazed at all the hidden areas I'd sometimes stumble into, and went out of my way trying to find new secrets. As the oldest game on this list, you can definitely tell how much it's aged -- crummy keyboard controls and no vertical aiming stand out worse than the pixellated 2D sprites -- but it's still a highly functional and enjoyable game, even to this day. I didn't play the full version with all three original episodes, or the sequel Doom II: Hell on Earth until much later, and I had a blast going through all the new areas without the benefit of nostalgia.


(1) How good is it? Objectively speaking, Doom is probably the worst game on this list because of its age, but it was the best thing you could possibly ask for back in 1993. The fact that I still enjoyed playing it in high school and college should speak volumes for its overall quality.

(2) How much of an impact did it have on me? Doom was probably the first non-educational video game I ever played, save for maybe X-Wing. It gave me frightening nightmares as a kid, and yet I still eagerly came back to play more of it the next day. The fact that it's so high on my list is mainly because of the impact it had in getting me started with video games.

(3) How interested would I be in replaying it right now? Like others on my list, this is a game that I've replayed so many times that I don't feel like there'd be much point in doing so. Doom II is much less fresh in my mind, so I could possibly see myself replaying the sequel sometime in the near future.



#2: Deus Ex

Considered a spiritual sequel to System Shock 2, with its blend of FPS and RPG gameplay and its cyberpunk theming, Deus Ex was released in 2000, having been developed by many of the same people who worked on the System Shock series. In Deus Ex, you play as JC Denton, an agent for an anti-terrorism organization known as UNATCO, who's been augmented with cybernetic enhancements. After preventing a group of terrorists from blowing up the statue of liberty, you proceed with the rest of your mission assignments and eventually discover that your older brother Paul, a fellow augmented UNATCO agent, has been working with the terrorists all along. You soon realize that you're part of a widespread government conspiracy, and can trust no one but yourself in bringing it down.

Deus Ex was my introduction to the FPS-RPG hybrid. I was already a fan of both FPS games and RPGs, so it was a great pleasure to see the two genres blended together. A first-person shooter with a great story and emergent gameplay that let you decide how you wanted to play the game, with stat point allocation and active skills? It was phenomenal. The RPG system alone offered a lot of potential replay value, with you being able to focus on different skills and take different augmentations that would alter your gameplay, but the game also had branching paths and decisions built into the level design and story -- you had a completely different experience if you took the rooftops to the NSF compound instead of the alleys, for example, and the story and gameplay scenarios changed slightly if you killed or let certain NPCs live. And I'll never forget that moment when I realized the game had actually betrayed me, that the game had been playing me for a fool all along, when I walked out of the Majestic 12 prison facility and found myself at the locked door in the UNATCO headquarters. That was just masterful storytelling.


(1) How good is it? Deus Ex feels a little clunky these days, and there are times, particularly early on, when the RPG mechanics clash with the FPS mechanics a little too strongly. But the amount of interesting, meaningful choices you have in this game is absolutely astounding, while the story and immersive atmosphere make it one of my favorite games of all time, regardless of genre.

(2) How much of an impact did it have on me? Quite a lot. As my introduction to FPS-RPG hybrids, it was Deus Ex that made it so difficult for me to appreciate simpler FPS games.

(3) How interested would I be in replaying it right now? I replayed Deus Ex (for the third time, I think) a few years ago in anticipation of Human Revolution. I probably wouldn't want to play it again for a long time, because I've played it enough at this point that I think I'd just be repeating a lot of the same decisions. If anything, I'd like to give Invisible War a shot.



#1: STALKER: Shadow of Chernobyl

Released in 2007, STALKER: Shadow of Chernobyl is an open-world post-apocalyptic FPS with RPG elements, set in the irradiated zone around Chernobyl, following a fictitious second nuclear blowout in 2006. As a result of all the nuclear emissions and lingering fallout, the Zone, as it's known, has developed all kinds of scientific anomalies -- small pockets of space that defy the natural laws of physics, that contain things like intense gravity wells or electrical storms -- and has even mutated most of the local wildlife, even bestowing psychokinesis, mind control, and powers of invisibility to some of its more monstrous mutants. The only people who go into the Zone are scientists looking to study the anomalies, or treasure hunters known as "stalkers" who wish to profit off the rare Artifacts, which imbue their carriers with special traits like increased health regeneration or an electromagnetic field that can reduce the impact of bullets or grenade shrapnel.

The STALKER series is easily one of the most atmospherically immersive games I've ever played. The Zone is a harsh, cruel place to be in, with the constant threat of anomalies ripping you to pieces, violent mutants trying to kill you, radiation poisoning and psionic emissions slowly weakening you until your eventual demise, and the occasional bandits who just want to steal your stuff. The fact that it's a somewhat open world, allowing you to explore where you want, with RPG-style quests, inventory, and character progression, along with a lightweight survival system that requires you to carry first aid kits, bandages, anti-radiation stims, and food with you everywhere you go (in addition to scrounging for ammunition when you inevitably run out, since all of your items have realistic weight and you can only carry so much when you set out from town), all makes you feel so heavily engaged in every moment of the game. The gunplay is a lot of fun, too, with realistic, meaningful recoil on weapons, in addition to things like bullet drop and bullet travel time, all of which makes hitting your targets a lot harder (and therefore more satisfying) than in most other games. More impressive than any of that, though, is how alive the Zone actually feels, with all of its unscripted events unfolding with complete disregard to your presence.


(1) How good is it? There's really nothing else like it. The only thing that comes close is Metro 2033, which is completely linear, and the modern Fallout games (3, New Vegas, and 4), which are more RPGs than shooters, and don't focus nearly as much on the survival-horror element. Short of the Gothic series, the STALKER games just might be my next favorite series of all time.

(2) How much of an impact did it have on me? I remember walking into a GameStop in early 2008, saw this on the shelf, brought it up to the register, and had the employee try to talk me out of buying it, saying that I absolutely needed to play Half-Life 2 instead. I'm glad I didn't listen to him, because while Half-Life 2 is fine and all, it's got nothing on STALKER. This was probably one of the most important games I played in college, in terms of shaping my identity as a gamer.

(3) How interested would I be in replaying it right now? Immensely. So much so that I installed the third game, Call of Pripyat, and have been playing it while working on this article. With the vast amount of mods (and total overhaul mods) available to all three STALKER games, I imagine there will always be something new out there for me to try, whenever I get the urge to play a STALKER game again.



Honorable Mentions

As with any "best of" list, it's usually worthwhile to talk about games that just missed the cut. For me, these are two games I was considering putting on the list, but I just couldn't find enough room for them.


TimeSplitters 2 + 3

I was a Nintendo kid growing up, which meant after the N64 had run its course and it was time to get a new console, the GameCube was the natural choice. Unfortunately, the GameCube didn't have a lot of FPS games to fill the void in my gaming habits left by Perfect Dark. 007: Nightfire came close, but it was TimeSplitters 2 that stepped up and offered the kind of fun single-player campaign, with all kinds of varied scenarios and environments as you basically Quantum Leaped through time to solve different problems, as well as a deep multi-player system that I'd been missing on my new console. TimeSplitters 3 came out towards the end of the GameCube's lifecycle, so it didn't get as much playtime for me, but it was a strong improvement in a lot of ways. Neither game made the cut in my top 10, mainly because neither of them could top Perfect Dark for time played, overall enjoyment, or general fandom. And even though I had a lot of fun playing them, back in the day, I'm honestly not sure I'd care to replay them again.



The newest entry on this list, Ziggurat came out in late 2014; I played it for the first time almost a year ago, in April of 2015, and enjoyed it quite a bit. Ziggurat is a fast-paced, arcade-style action shooter, in which you play an apprentice wizard ascending to the top of a Ziggurat as part of your trials to become a full-fledged wizard. Each floor features a randomized layout of rooms with different combinations of enemies and special encounters. You find and equip a bunch of different magic wands, staves, spellbooks, and alchemical weapons, which offer a lot of fun variety from typical FPS weaponry, and the enemies you fight are so varied that it's a lot of fun learning how they all behave so that you can get better and take them out. In terms of "old school" action shooters, Ziggurat is one of the most enjoyable I've ever played, but I had a hard time putting in the list at #10 over Painkiller, just because Painkiller has stood the test of time for me and been a bigger part of my life's journey as a gamer. Maybe in time Ziggurat will supplant it, but it wasn't going to be this year.



Notable Omissions

You may have noticed a few high-profile games missing from my list, that likely would have made it onto any mainstream "top 10" list. Games like Halo, Call of Duty, Medal of Honor, Battlefield, Counter-Strike, Quake, Unreal Tournament, Crysis, and Farcry (among countless others) were all left off the list because I just haven't played any of them. I've played various Halo, Call of Duty, and Medal of Honor games, but only in multiplayer mode, so I really don't have enough of a foundation with any of those games to rate them fairly, and obviously not enough experience for any of them to make the cut in my list of favorite FPS games.

The one omission that I feel somewhat bad about is Half-Life, because it's such a highly regarded PC game that it seems like sacrilege for me not to include it. But honestly, I was never that into Half-Life. I played it a little bit in the early 2000s and it didn't catch my interest enough for me to keep playing. Then I gave it another chance in college, playing it all the way to completion, but it felt a little too dated at that point to stand out, and the ridiculous architecture and level design annoyed me to no end. I played Half-Life 2 (and both of its subsequent episodes) shortly thereafter, and while they were fine games in their own right, I didn't feel all that impressed by them, and never felt the urge over the past 6-8 years to replay them. In short, they don't hold a special place in my heart like the games in my top 10.



In Conclusion

One interesting thing to note about these selections is that very few of them are traditional, typical FPS games. Most of them are on the list because they have something else going on in them -- RPG mechanics in System Shock and Deus Ex, an open world survival element in STALKER, randomized loot in Borderlands, horror sequences in FEAR, stealth gameplay and gadgets in No One Lives Forever, and online coop and leveling in Killing Floor. Perfect Dark, Doom, and Painkiller are really the only "traditional" shooters on this list, and even then, Painkiller sets itself apart with its highly atypical weaponry and uber-ginormous boss fights. I'm not sure if that means I just don't care for "regular" shooters much, or if I just like RPGs and survival-horror games more, which therefore leads me to liking FPS games with those elements in them as well. I guess it's probably more of the latter.

STALKER: Call of Pripyat - Review

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STALKER: Call of Pripyat is the third game in the STALKER series, a trio of open-world survival-horror FPS games set in the irradiated "Zone" around the Chernobyl Nuclear Power Plant in Ukraine, following a fictitious second blowout in 2006. As a result of all the radiation (and other mysterious forces), the Zone has become an inhospitable place full of violent mutants and dangerous scientific anomalies -- small, localized spaces that defy the laws of physics, like gravity wells that pull you off the ground and rip you to pieces, or spots of earth that shoot fire when you step on them. Some of the mutants have even developed powers of telekinesis, invisibility, and mind control. The only people who venture into the Zone are scientists looking to study the anomalies, and treasure hunters known as "stalkers" hoping to find valuable "artifacts" contained in and around anomalies, which bestow their carriers with special powers like accelerated blood clotting or extra strength.

Call of Pripyat follows the events of Shadow of Chernobyl, in which you, as an amnesiac stalker known as the "marked one," managed to disable a device called the "brain scorcher," which had been keeping people from reaching the center of the Zone. With the demise of the brain scorcher, the Ukrainian government launched a series of helicopters to survey the area in preparation for a large-scale military raid on the CNPP. All five of the helicopters crashed in the Zone before reaching the CNPP. You play as Major Degtyarev, member of the Ukrainian Security Services, on an undercover reconnaissance mission investigating the helicopter crashes. You begin the game on the outskirts of the Zone in the Zaton swamps, before advancing to the Yanov Railway station and Jupiter manufacturing plant, and eventually, reaching the city of Pripyat itself.

I'm a bit of a STALKER veteran, having played Shadow of Chernobyl twice and Clear Sky once, but it's been about five or six years since the last time I played either one, and I'd almost forgotten how vague and unforgiving these games can be. Call of Pripyat's introduction gives you next to nothing in the way of tutorials explaining how the game actually works -- there's no message that pops up telling you "these are anomalies, and they will f**k you up," or NPCs telling you "this is how you use a detector to find artifacts." It doesn't tell you how important different resistances are, how "handling" differs from recoil or accuracy stats on weapons, or that equipment can deteriorate to the point that their stats decrease and weapons start jamming. You either have to know all of this stuff already, either from playing previous STALKER games or by actually reading the manual, or else figure it out on your own. Even having a lot of previous experience with the series, it still took me a little while to get the hang of things again.

An easily visible fire anomaly in Pripyat.

STALKER's almost complete lack of hand-holding is one of the ways it sets itself apart from a lot of other shooters. The Zone is supposed to be a brutally harsh and unforgiving place, after all, so it makes sense that the game would do you no favors and be generally indifferent whether you succeed or fail. As an open-world survival-horror game, that feeling of being alone and vulnerable, left to your own devices to figure out how to survive in this dangerous world, plays a key role in setting the game's unique tone and atmosphere.

The Zone is divided into three explorable hubs, each with a centrally-located "town," which acts as a safe zone for buying and selling goods, storing your loot, resting, and picking up quests. The areas outside of town are completely open, allowing you to set off in any direction towards any other location you like. Major locations are marked on your map, but there are plenty of interesting things to discover if you take the time to explore between the main map markers. As with any open-world game, you're free to complete quests and explore the map in any order and fashion that you like. Once you advance the main quest sufficiently in each region, you open up access to the next hub area, which offers you a brand new map to explore. You're always able to travel between hubs, as you desire; sometimes it's even required to return to a previous hub to complete a quest you picked up in a newer hub.

There's a very natural, organic feeling to the way you pick up and solve quests in this game. You're not just talking to every random person you find hoping to trigger game content; you're usually going up to established people like merchants, doctors, and mechanics asking them for work. It makes sense in the context of the Zone, and doesn't feel like you're picking up a traditional quest just for the sake of accessing content -- you're just doing what's necessary to survive by gaining resources and people's trust. Likewise, when you're interacting with less authoritative figures in the Zone, like other random stalkers, you're doing so because you found them in an unusual area in unusual circumstances, or because you over-heard their conversation in the bar and wanted to know more. Sometimes, it's because other stalkers approach you and ask for your help.

Me about to get obliterated by the oncoming wave of a nuclear blowout.

The quests themselves are usually pretty interesting and engaging, as well. In the starting area, you work with a hunter who's looking into a bunch of deaths believed to have been caused by bloodsuckers -- humanoid mutants that can turn invisible, and drink the blood of their prey -- because no one ever sees the victims die, and their bodies are always drained of blood. You visit an abandoned power station with the hunter, descend down an elevator shaft, and find yourself trapped underground in the heart of the bloodsucker's nest, while they're all sleeping, leaving you to sneak your way out without alerting any of them. The hunter says he has some ideas about how to exterminate the nest, and that he'll contact you in a few days once he's explored some options. A few days pass, he calls you on the radio, and you go to meet up with him, only to find that he's been killed by the town doctor -- a hemoglobin addict who's been killing the other stalkers for their blood.

A lot of quests involve some form of decision-making, usually in terms of whose side you take in a conflict, whom you give a limited resource to, or how you go about solving a problem. If you special order a unique weapon from a merchant, you'll be confronted by someone else on your way out of town claiming that new weapon of yours is the one he lost a few weeks ago -- do you give it to him to avoid confrontation, or keep it for yourself, knowing that he might try to get back at you later? When two stalkers are trying to rescue their friend who's being held hostage, do you suggest negotiating for his release, or suggest an armed raid on the bandit camp? These decisions give you a strong feeling of influence over the Zone and your place within it, since you have the power to effect change in the environment, and the Fallout-style ending makes sure to showcase how all of your decisions affected everyone's lives and the future of the Zone.

Picking dialogue options to determine the next path of a quest.

The game includes a PDA system with GPS tracking for quests with obvious destinations (like when a stalker uploads specific coordinates to your PDA), but a lot of quests go completely unmarked, leaving it up to you to explore and figure things out for yourself. When you're given an objective like "find this missing person," or you come to a dead end in a quest with no idea what to do next, the amazing and utterly mind-blowing thing is that you can almost always talk to the random, ambient NPCs for suggestions or advice. They don't always know the solutions to your problems, but they can usually point you in the right direction or give you some ideas. This is what I mean by the quests feeling natural and organic; when you're presented with a problem, you do what you'd do in real life -- ask someone for help -- and solve your problems entirely through the context of the game world. I only needed to consult a guide on two or three occasions, because I could usually count on my own logic and determination to solve any issues.

As with virtually any open-world game of this nature, about half or more of the Zone's NPCs aren't there to serve any specific purpose -- they're just there to flesh out the Zone and make it seem lived-in. Random stalkers hang out in town and provide for atmospheric ambiance with their idle chatter and guitar-playing, while others patrol the Zone, sometimes engaging mutants and zombies in combat. The random NPCs can therefore be completely ignored, but they also serve useful functions if you're out in the wilderness and need some assistance. Besides just asking for help with quests, you can usually pay a stalker to escort you to a specific location (basically a fast-travel system) or trade goods with them, both useful if you're low on ammunition or healing supplies and don't want to risk continuing on in your current state. But really, it's their somewhat random, unscripted behavior that makes the Zone feel so alive and lived-in.

NPCs hanging out.

For example: once I made it to the first town, in the starting area, I went around talking to important NPCs, picking up quests, selling loot, putting things in storage, and so on. As I went about my business, I started to hear gunfire in the distance. I ran outside and found two groups of stalkers fighting one another. As a neutral party, I had no stake in who won, but like a true scavenger, I wanted to snag the guns and equipment off the dead before the survivors could, so I was frantically running through the brush dodging bullets and ripping the guns off the dead, before heading back to the outpost to make inventory. Meanwhile, packs of mutants randomly wander about the Zone, while any random stalkers who get caught in one of the power plant's periodic blowouts will get turned into a mindless zombie.

Survival is a major element in Call of Pripyat, as it is in the other STALKER games, with death around every corner and behind every tree. You not only have to contend with living threats, such as mutated monsters, bandits, and gun-toting zombified stalkers, but the environment itself is even out to get you -- take one wrong step and an electrical anomaly may char you to death. You have to be mindful of every step you take, and watch yourself everywhere you go, because you put yourself at risk every time you step out from town. If you want to fare well out in the Zone, then you need to make sure you pack your supplies well, setting out with enough guns, ammunition, food, medkits, and drugs to tide you over until you can make it back to town. These items all have weight values to them, and you can only carry so much weight, so you have to maintain an ideal balance on everything. And if you run out of one resource, like ammunition, then you may find yourself relying on crappy weapons left by the dead and scrounging for every last bullet.

That's not to say Call of Pripyat is some brutally harsh survival simulator like Day Z, Rust, Nether, or any of these other post-apocalyptic survival games that pop up on Steam every other week. Rather, Call of Pripyat is more about traditional open-world action, adventure, and exploration, with a post-apocalyptic survival-horror theme tying it all together. In truth, surviving in the Zone really isn't that difficult compared to other, more strict survival-horror games; you're usually able to find enough of what you need if you explore thoroughly and conserve resources when you need to. I, for instance, had a near constant supply of backup weapons and ammunition, and frequently had more money than I knew what to do with.

A hidden supply cache, tucked in a recess on top of this train.

That's not to say that it's easy, either. The Zone has been occupied for a few years by the time of Call of Pripyat, so most of the obvious loot has already been picked clean -- you won't find valuable goods just lying out in the open. In order to get ahead, you have to work for it, either by doing jobs for merchants, risking your life hunting for artifacts in anomaly fields, or by searching really obscure out-of-the-way places for hidden stashes of loot. The stashes, in particular, are hidden so discreetly by other stalkers that you're unlikely ever to stumble upon them randomly, which makes it feel more rewarding to find them because it took clever observation for you to notice something and think "this looks like a good spot for a supply cache."

Likewise, there's a lot of cool stuff that you can find in the unmarked spaces between major landmarks, if you're the inquisitive type of person who likes to explore everywhere just to see what's out there. At one point I was wandering along, following a GPS coordinate for a quest, and I noticed an interesting train off to the side with an electrical anomaly running up and down its length. I go to check it out, run all around it, and find there's no way to get inside. I notice, however, that it's stopped under a bridge, so I jump on top and find a hatch to drop into, which then traps me inside the train, forcing me to advance up the entire length of it dodging the moving electrical anomaly. At the front of the train, I find a set of tools, which I can give to one of the mechanics in town so that they can apply higher tier upgrades for my weapons and armor.

The train with the electro anomaly.

Then, I'm wandering along and notice an odd side path on the road, with what appears to be an underground station access. I go inside, kill a ton of zombified stalkers, find a hole in the wall hidden behind some destructible crates, and find myself deep underground in some kind of sewer system connected by tunnels everywhere. I wander around for a while before coming to a long, open hallway with several rows of pillars spaced down its length. I continue pressing forward for several minutes, constantly finding myself back at the entrance to that room, when I suddenly realize I'm stuck in a loop, and that I'm supposed to walk through the correct series of pillars to unlock access to the next area. A few more minutes of trial and error later, and I find that I've accidentally wandered into the Oasis, a fabled healing spring of immense power that most stalkers believed was only a rumor. I'd been asking nearly every stalker I came across if they'd heard of the Oasis or had any ideas about how to find it that I was in complete awe when I actually found it.

The game's rich atmosphere is what sells this rewarding feeling of exploration and discovery, because everything just feels so immersive; everything has some kind of meaningful context, and the open-world simulation makes it feel natural and unscripted, like anything could happen at any time. Constant combinations of random events, like running for cover during a nuclear blowout and being ambushed by a hidden mutant throwing telekinetic projectiles at you, leads to some of the most atmospheric and memorable moments you'll ever experience in any game. When faced with a minefield between me and one of the crashed helicopters I'm supposed to investigate, I was literally holding my breath, nervous with every step I took, cringing in preparation of a mine blowing up in my face, as I slowly advanced forward tossing bolts out and listening for the tell-tale "click" of a mine in front of me. It's so immersive that I even find myself moving in my chair, reflexively jerking my head back when I'm about to walk into a corrosive bit of foliage dangling from the ceiling, or hunching closer to the screen during combat and juking my head left or right when a bullet whizzes past my face.

As with the other STALKER games, combat is another one of the subtle ways in which Call of Pripyat sets itself apart from other shooters. Bullets in Call of Pripyat have realistic travel times, and drop over long distances, which requires you to make estimated guesses as to how far you should lead a moving target, or how much higher you should aim to account for gravity -- it's not just a simple matter of "point and shoot." The guns also have meaningful recoil, which requires you to pay closer attention to how your gun is behaving and adjust accordingly. The guns feel pretty satisfying to shoot, and there's an RPG-like feeling of progression as you start out with crappy worn-out AK47s that fire wildly and jam up all the time, and progressively work your way up to pristine military-grade stuff like the H&K G36.

Shooting a zombie with a pistol.

Guns have other stats, too, like damage, accuracy, rate of fire, handling, and durability, in addition to various attachments and upgrades. There are tons of different weapons within the same class (e.g., 10 pistols, 11 assault rifles, 5 shotguns, etc) which all function differently in noticeable ways, and there're a lot of different types of ammo for the same class of weapon, depending on the gun's manufacturer. Even within the same class of ammunition, like say the 9x18mm pistol rounds, you encounter several variants like standard hollow point, full metal jacket, pressurized rounds, or jacketed-soft-point, which you can use in different situations for different purposes. Each gun also has unique upgrade trees that let you follow specific tiered upgrade paths, choosing one of two possible upgrades for each slot. With all of these options, you have a ton of creative freedom to come up with your own desired, optimal loadout. There's so much room for customization that I actually spent two hours trying out different combinations of equipment and upgrades near the end of the game, just trying to find my own perfect loadout.

Human enemies behave with surprising intelligence; if they're safely behind cover, they won't just pop in and out waiting to die, they'll stay behind cover and pin you down with suppressing fire or flush you out with grenades while their comrades circles around to flank you. If enemies are alerted, but don't know where you are, they move cautiously and deliberately, or else move into safe, defensive positions and try to entice you to come to them. There's also a surprising amount of tension in combat, because in a lot of situations, you don't know how many enemies there are, or where they are, and with death able to descend on you as quickly as it takes a bullet to travel through the air and puncture your heart or lungs, you tense up checking your surroundings at all times. You have to be really spontaneous, reacting quickly and making quick improvisational decisions, and the game will actually reward you for using the environment to your advantage or out-smarting the enemy.

Mutants behave a lot differently, and mix things up depending on what you're fighting. Most of the more common mutants, like dogs, boars, and fleshes will just charge straight at you. Bloodsuckers activate a form of invisibility and try to circle you, attacking you from your blind sides unless you can spot their faintly glowing eyes or hear them coming, first. Snorks and chimeras jump around a lot, requiring precise aiming and quick dodging to take them out. Psydogs use a type of psychic projection to make it seem like you're being attacked by an entire swarm of them, when in reality only one of them is real, and you have to keep track of which one that is. Burers use telekinesis to throw objects at you, as well as to yank weapons out of your hand or drain your stamina, effectively paralyzing you for a few seconds. And controllers possess your mind, pulling you in and knocking you back with a psychic force that disrupts your vision and disorients you.

Catching a glimpse of a bloodsucker's eyes, while he's invisible.

As good as the game's open world structure is, a lot of its best moments occur during more scripted levels and missions. Like Shadow of Chernobyl, a lot of these occur in underground research labs, and it's here where the game turns the spacious, open world structure on its head by putting you in dark, claustrophobic corridors where all kinds of strange, paranormal anomalies and mutant monstrosities lie in wait between you and the exit. These sections are a great change of pace since they completely invert the usual gameplay formula, and they force you into more intense situations where you have to press forward into known (or unknown) danger, usually against the game's more sinister mutants. The game doesn't show you all of its tricks up front, so as you play through the game you're constantly being put in new situations against new enemies who do new and different things, so you never really know what to expect up ahead, and the more linear, underground lab sections can be downright spooky and terrifying because of this.

It's hard for me to believe, just because I remember when I was hyped about this game coming out and it didn't feel like it was that long ago, but Call of Pripyat is now over six years old, having been released in North America in February of 2010. Sadly, some of its technical designs haven't aged that well, and some of them, frankly, were never that great or polished to begin with. The game plays at a default, unchangeable (at least, not without file tweaks and console commands) FOV of 55, a lot of the graphics look pretty shoddy these days (2D tree foliage, flat walls of grass, bland skyboxes, low detail on long draw distances, etc), and it, along with Shadow of Chernobyl and Clear Sky, was pretty buggy at the time of release, needing a ton of patches (both official and unofficial) to get the game working properly. At this point, certain mods -- "Call of Pripyat Complete" -- are absolutely required (or at least, strongly recommended) to get the best experience out of the game. Personally, I found that the game ran smoothly, without any major bugs or crashes on my modern system, and ran only a few graphical mods -- "AtmosFear.""AbsoluteNature." and "AbsoluteStructures."

If this is the first you've heard of the STALKER series, then you should know that everything I've mentioned about Call of Pripyat basically applies to the series in general, though there are some notable differences between games. If you're interested in trying the series out, Call of Pripyat would be a fine place to start, since it's the most streamlined and modernized game in the series, but Shadow of Chernobyl -- the first game from 2007 -- is, I believe, the bigger, better, more epic game. It's got more maps to explore, more underground research labs, a much better story, and more unique, memorable moments in it. Clear Sky is, unfortunately, somewhat rubbish and should be avoided unless you've already played Shadow of Chernobyl and Call of Pripyat and want more STALKER. Even then, you'd probably be better off just installing an overhaul mod for one of the two better games than playing through Clear Sky.

Dark Souls 3 Doesn't Suck .... Or Does It?

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After the colossal disappointment of Dark Souls II, it would be appropriate to say that I had pretty low expectations for Dark Souls III. Although, I suppose it would be more accurate to say that I simply had no expectations for Dark Souls III. Despite all of my criticism against Dark Souls II, I still found it a deeply engaging experience, and I enjoy the core gameplay of the Souls series enough that a single lukewarm experience wouldn't be enough to turn me off from future installments. With Dark Souls III, I wasn't going to expect some sort of grand, transcendent experience like the original Demon's Souls, or even the first Dark Souls -- instead, I was just going to play it and try to enjoy it like I would any other video game.

Reviewing Dark Souls III is a difficult task for me because I have two divergent opinions about it. On the one hand, it feels like the least rushed and most polished of the three Dark Souls games, but on the other hand, it also feels like it's lacking in content compared to either of the previous two games. Despite that, I've put twice as many hours into Dark Souls III than I put into either Dark Souls or Dark Souls II, with 135 hours spanning multiple characters and multiple playthroughs. It was so addicting that I'd sometimes play for eight hours straight without stepping away to eat lunch or dinner, or play until four in the morning when I had to be up at nine the next day. And yet, after all that time, I've found myself progressively more annoyed and disappointed. There's all this extra stuff I still want to do, in terms of builds and playstyles, but I just can't bring myself to keep playing anymore, unless the game gets some serious patches, because the flaws have become almost unbearable.

Before getting any further into this review, I want to point out that I've tried to make this review as spoiler-free as possible since the game is still relatively new. I mention a few minor things here and there, like the names of a few areas in the game, but they would mean nothing to you and so nothing is likely to be spoiled by reading this review. The review also assumes you have some familiarity with the Dark Souls series, or have read my previous articles on the series; this isn't a typical "consumer advice" review that gives an overview on what the game is and whether it's worth getting or not. Rather, it's a slightly more in-depth look at specific gameplay mechanisms, aimed at people who have already played the other games in the series and want to know how Dark Souls III compares to the others.


Story / Characters

I don't really care about the stories in these games, and apparently neither does From Software, so I'm not going to bother going into any detail deciphering the lore or nitpicking weird inconsistencies. As I mentioned in my Dark Souls II review, the only thing I really care about when it comes to these games is the overt story that happens to your character -- what's going on in the world as you play, and why you're doing the things that you're doing. In that aspect, From Software hits par for the course once again by not really giving you any explanation to go off of. Dark Souls III basically just rehashes the tired theme of the Age of Fire waning, and you have to go defeat four main bosses to link the flame and jumpstart a new Age of Fire, or else sever the connection and bring about an Age of Dark.

The unique twist this time around is that four of the five Lords of Cinder -- those responsible for linking the fire in the previous age -- have abandoned their thrones for whatever reason, and you have to get them back on their thrones so that you can link the fire yourself. It's kind of a cool concept that the main bosses in this game were once, essentially, the good guys, but have now turned their backs on their responsibilities, or in some cases, were reluctant to link the fire, or had nefarious motives for doing so. There are a lot of fun storylines one could explore with these ideas -- one of the main NPC questlines you can follow ends with a revelation that he had a close relationship with one of the Lords of Cinder -- but as you'd expect from a Souls game, they simply tease you with these interesting ideas, and then leave everything so vague and unresolved that the fanbase has to create the stories themselves, almost from scratch, considering how little they have to go on.

Talking with Hawkwood, the Sadfallen Warrior.

So you go through the tutorial area, beat the first boss, and wind up at the Nexus Firelink Shrine, where the Maiden in BlackEmerald Herald Firekeeper sets you on your epic quest by saying "The Lords have left their thrones, and must be deliver'd to them. The mark of ash will guide thee to the land of the Lords. To Lothric, where the homes of the Lords converge." And you sit there wondering "Why did they leave their thrones? Why must I put them back on their thrones? How do I do this?" It turns out all this really involves is killing each of them, scooping their ashen remains into a dustbin, and emptying it on each of their thrones. It's kind of anticlimactic when you consider how much more they could've done with putting the Lords of Cinder back on their thrones, perhaps by going into their memories like you did with the giants in Dark Souls II, or by turning them into Firelink NPCs you could talk to.

Actually talking to them probably wouldn't feel that satisfying, though, since the NPC dialogue is so generally disappointing in this game. It's always surprising to me how consistently good the voice acting is in these games, considering how little emphasis there actually is on NPCs and the story, but the writing just leaves so much to be desired. The characters, especially those who inhabit the Firelink Shrine, all feel like lifeless robots spouting the same lines of dialogue throughout the entire game. After your initial meeting with the Firekeeper, choosing the "talk" option will always result in her "Ashen one, to be Unkindled is to be a vessel for souls" speech about bringing her souls to level-up, unless you do one of two very specific things to trigger an extra line or two of dialogue. Another NPC you can recruit to Firelink Shrine sends you on a quest early in the game to deliver a ring to a woman (which you quickly resolve), and then for the entire rest of the game, choosing the "talk" option will always result in him telling you to keep the ring.

Rescuing an NPC from a locked cell.

Most of the characters in the game are completely static, never changing, and never reacting to anything you do in the world. I made a point of going back to Firelink Shrine to talk to every NPC every time I advanced to a new area or defeated a boss, and found myself really annoyed how no one except the Crestfallen Warrior, Hawkwood, seemed to care about anything that was going on. You can trigger a few lines of new dialogue with some of the other characters here and there, usually by bringing them an item, but a lot of these lines tend to be totally inconsequential -- just them acknowledging it and saying thank you. If you want any kind of meaningful interaction with NPCs, then you have to pursue the five or six NPC side-quests, but good luck actually following any of them without a guide.

Per the usual, From Software have made a lot of the NPC questlines so obscure and illogical that you probably won't even be able to finish most of them on your first playthrough, unless you're rigorously following step-by-step guides to make sure you do everything exactly right, in the correct order, throughout the entire game. For one NPC, you have to have talked to them enough times in Firelink after gaining a few necessary items, kill a tough enemy that the game expects you to run away from, warp out to reset the level, return, be embered (ie, human form, as opposed to undead), backtrack through a totally pointless area you'd never have any reason to visit again, notice a summon sign on the ground, and stand directly on top of it, instead of just assuming that it's a sign left by another player [because it looks exactly the same] and disregarding it without getting close enough for the message to pop up telling you its from an NPC requesting your assistance.

Talking to an NPC in Firelink shrine.

You're meant to have another special encounter with another NPC in another area, but triggering their event requires you to explore up until a certain point in the level and then warp out entirely, to refresh the area, and then go to a specific spot before passing a certain point in another area of the level. There's a strict order of operations you have follow, or else the NPC just won't spawn at all; I missed it because I chose be thorough and explore everywhere possible before fighting the boss or leaving the area, and was punished for my diligence. In a similar fashion, I completely locked myself out of sorceries in my first playthrough because I waited too long to do something with an NPC, with no warning whatsoever that their services would stop suddenly, and killed a boss before giving another NPC a certain item. If I'd been planning to learn sorceries later on, I would've been completely screwed, all because I didn't have the psychic ability to know that certain characters would simply vanish after certain points in the game progression.

Ultimately, I like the idea of the characters existing independently of you, like they're all fellow inhabitants of Lothric just going about their business whether you're around or not, and that it's possible for you to miss things or fail questlines by not doing certain things or meeting certain requirements. It's definitely a more desirable approach than Dark Souls II's approach, which basically just amounted to summoning every NPC before every boss fight and instantly resolving their questlines. But the execution in Dark Souls III is pretty damn frustrating from a gameplay standpoint. It just sucks to miss out on content (sometimes gameplay-altering content) just because the quest mechanics don't make any kind of sense. I suppose you could argue that it's like that to promote replays via "new game plus mode" -- something goes wrong in your first playthrough, so you learn and do something differently the next time -- but you don't always know why things happened the way they did in the first place to be able to fix them a second time around, without more utterly clueless trial-and-error in a third or fourth playthrough.


Level Design / Exploration

The crappy level design was probably my number one complaint about Dark Souls II, so thankfully From Software have taken that criticism to heart and have vastly improved the level design in Dark Souls III. The levels are incredibly dense and intricate this time, with tons of branching paths, side routes, unlockable shortcuts, and hidden areas. One of the earlier levels in the game, the Undead Settlement, has two totally divergent paths to the boss chamber, meaning you could potentially miss half of the level if you go one way at the start and don't go back to explore the other path. An optional part of the level is behind a locked door, which requires you to get the key later in the level and then backtrack, which is made easier by a couple of shortcuts you unlock along the way. There's also a hidden area with a bonus boss fight and some good loot if you're observant enough and think to act outside the normal confines of the level design.

Everywhere you go, you're always given a choice about where to go. When you warp into the High Wall of Lothric, the very first area after the tutorial, you're immediately given a choice: go left, or right. If you go left, then do you go up, or down? Some of these apparent branches quickly terminate in a dead end, but most of them continue forward in the level and eventually link back up with the main route, often allowing you multiple ways to progress through the level. As a result, you can sometimes spend hours exploring a single level, if you're the type of gamer who likes to explore everywhere and do everything possible in an area before moving on. Most levels also feature a few really tough enemies thrown into the mix, the kind designed to really challenge you at a low level so that you put them off and come back to vanquish them later. That type of thing is great for letting you pick your own level of challenge -- do you tackle this tough obstacle now, or later -- and makes exploration feel that much more rewarding, because you're either going out of your way to access better rewards earlier on, or else you come back later when you're stronger, and feel like a badass for beating that one enemy that gave you such a tough time in the beginning.

A bonfire within sight of another bonfire. Why is this necessary?

Unfortunately, a few design elements from Dark Souls II made their way over to Dark Souls III, like the free, unlimited warping from bonfire to bonfire from the very beginning of the game, and the overabundance of bonfires around practically every corner. I really miss how the first Dark Souls forced you to get everywhere on foot for the first third of the game, because it made you become a lot more familiar with the level layouts, it made shortcuts feel that much more rewarding, and it added a lot of tension when you fell down a hole and got stuck somewhere in unfamiliar territory. Plus, it was just really cool having all the starting areas so tightly-wound around Firelink Shrine. Dark Souls III needs warping from the very beginning, but that's only because its levels spread so far out from Firelink that it would be way too hard to make it make it back any time you wanted to level up or do some shopping.

Like with Dark Souls II, the constant bonfires and free warping from the beginning of the game makes a lot of areas utterly pointless once you've been through them the first time. Transitions between areas are often devoid of any kind of meaningful structure; they're usually just a linear path with a handful of enemies, with another bonfire shortly ahead. In a lot of cases, you beat a boss and unlock a new bonfire, then walk a short distance fighting zero enemies and unlock another bonfire. Then you walk a little further, fighting perhaps a few basic enemies, and there's another bonfire. There's even one instance in the game with two bonfires within clear sight of one another, a mere hundred yards away with zero obstacles between them. All of these bonfires often defeats the point of shortcuts; instead of using the level to your advantage, following paths and finding efficient routes, you just warp to the latest bonfire and start there every time. There's also practically zero risk of ever losing your souls, because you're always just a short walk from a bonfire.

The linear progression through the game, starting with the Cemetery of Ash.

Also, whereas Demon's Souls and Dark Souls both gave you a lot of options in terms of what order you'd complete levels and thus how you'd progress through the game, Dark Souls III has a generally linear route from the opening tutorial to the final boss. See the chart above for an example of what I mean -- paths marked with a red X are blocked until you clear the first three Lords of Cinder. You have to go through a lot of the game in a very specific order, usually completing two or three areas in sequence before you get any options. Even then, it's usually only a choice of two different areas, one of which will terminate in a dead end once you finish it. This has an extreme consequence on replays and new game plus mode, because it means you basically have to go through the entire game in the same order every time you play it. In addition, the sequence-locked progression means a lot of special items are inaccessible until much later in the game; if you want to make a new character with an alternate build, you have to play through serious chunks of the game before you can get access to items and equipment critical for your new build.

If there's one thing Dark Souls II got right, it was that it made new game plus worth going through because of how much stuff it changed. It added a ton of completely unique weapons, rings, and armor sets, changed the enemy placements, upped the number of enemies in addition to just buffing their stats, added whole new enemies never seen before in the first playthrough, changed boss fights (one, in particular, ambushes you way before you expect to fight it normally), and so on. In Dark Souls III, new game plus mode is exactly the same as it was the first time around, except it's drastically easier because the enemies haven't been buffed enough to compensate for your own higher stats. The only changes in new game plus are a few upgraded versions of rings that were already in the first playthrough, none of which make a dramatic impact on the game unless you're an avid PVP'er looking for every little advantage you can get.

Everything you see is about 50% of the Profaned Capital.

Meanwhile, the latter half of the game feels a little empty and underdeveloped. The main goal of the game is to defeat the four Lords of Cinder so you can gain access to the Kiln of the First Flame and link the fire. The journey feels pretty satisfying until you beat the second Lord of Cinder, but once you reach that halfway point, the number of remaining areas drops significantly, and about half of the remaining areas are so short they're over before you even realize it. The Profaned Capital is particularly disappointing -- Yhorm the Giant is the last Lord of Cinder shown in the intro cinematic, so you go in there expecting this grand, climactic fight in the capital city. And then the area is just a single, short path to the boss chamber and a side-route that links back to a previous area. The Consumed King's Garden is basically two large rooms and the boss chamber, and the Untended Graves has almost nothing in it -- some basic enemies, a boss chamber, and a few black knights.

Finally, there's not a whole lot of aesthetic variety between areas; the bulk of the game seems to take place in castles/fortresses, cathedrals, and swamps, with the few stand-out areas just being rehashes of places we've already seen in previous games. Archdragon Peak is reminiscent of the Dragon Aerie from Dark Souls II; Irithyll Dungeon is a rehash of the Tower of Latria from Demon's Souls; the Catacombs of Carthus is a rehash of every catacomb from all of the previous Souls games; Smouldering Lake is Ash Lake and Lost Izalith from Dark Souls; Farron Keep is every poison swamp from every Souls game; Cathedral of the Deep is the Undead Parish from Dark Souls; The Grand Archives is the Duke's Archives from Dark Souls; and so on. I've not played Bloodborne, but I'm told the Undead Settlement is a lot like some of the levels from that game. This being the fourth game in the Souls series (fifth if you count Bloodborne) there's obviously going to be a lot of retreads and overlap, but it's just kind of disheartening to play through Dark Souls III and feel like you've already seen and done everything before.


Combat / Enemy Design

Much like the bland and uninspiring area aesthetics, the vast majority of enemies in Dark Souls III feel reminiscent of stuff we've already seen in the previous games. Very, very few enemies in the game offer any kind of new surprise that catches you off-guard, or instills a sense of dread or fear in you, or makes you extra cautious because of how weird and unfamiliar they are. The giant spider caught me by surprise the very first time just because it dropped in from out of nowhere (literally -- I looked up immediately before and it wasn't there), but then once I realized what it was, I shrugged it off and was like, "whatever, I've killed giant spiders before in these games." The first wretch you encounter is kind of creepy, but once you start fighting them they're not all that different from other enemies. The ninja skeletons that turn invisible while they roll made me panic a little the first time I fought one. The hand ogres were completely grotesque. Otherwise, it was just a handful of enemies here and there that intimidated me only because of how difficult they were.

Likewise, there aren't a lot of truly unique bosses, which is especially weird because of how much fewer there are this time around. Dark Souls had 22 bosses before DLC; Dark Souls II had 32 bosses before DLC; Dark Souls III has 19 bosses. I know I trashed Dark Souls II for having so many bosses that a lot of them felt pointless, but it at least had some interesting, memorable bosses with unique mechanics. Consider the Looking Glass Knight, who could summon NPCs or even other players to fight against you, or the Flexile Sentry, where the arena progressively filled with water until you were eventually slowed by it, or the Lost Sinner which you had to fight in almost complete darkness. In Dark Souls III, almost every boss is just a standard one-vs-one fight against large melee-fighting or magic-casting humanoids in a generic, empty arena. The most unique things we have going on in Dark Souls III are: a False Idol / Pinwheel clone, a constantly-respawning mob enemy where the boss soul keeps switching between enemies, and a one-versus-two where the second boss heals and resurrects the first.

Vordt, boss of the first full level after the tutorial.

On the bright side, From Software have at least realized that treating the Dark Souls combat system like Dynasty Warriors, where you mow down enemies by the dozens, like they did with Dark Souls II, does not work. Only seven of the 19 bosses in Dark Souls III feature multiple enemies, but only three of those pose any kind of real threat. For the most part, it's always a one-on-one where you just have to focus on the one enemy, watching its moves, learning its tells, and reacting accordingly. These fights are generally quite satisfying because success is more about playing intelligently than being able to dodge countless barrages from hordes of enemy attacks like in Dark Souls II. The levels themselves, likewise, are made more difficult by making individual enemies stronger and more aggressive, instead of just pasting more of them into the level. In most instances, you're only fighting two or three enemies at a time, which is enough to challenge you within the confines of the target-lock combat system, but not enough to overwhelm you.

Combat in Dark Souls III is a little faster than it's been in previous games, perhaps on par with or even a little bit faster than Demon's Souls, both in terms of its physical speed the level of enemy aggression. You move faster and attack faster, but so does everything else. As a result, combat now feels less like a game of wits and more like a game of reaction speeds. Mainly, it's because all of the enemies have become relentlessly hyper-aggressive; most enemies attack with fast, flailing 3-5 hit combos that tear you to shreds if you get hit at the start of it. If you try to rely on roll-dodging, then you have to perfectly time 3-5 rolls all in a row, and if you try to block it with a shield then you lose a lot of stamina, and might possibly get your guard broken. Either way, you're left very low on stamina to initiate a follow-up attack, and the enemies have such short recovery times that you'll only be able to get one or two hits in before they launch into another 3-5 hit combo. And if you try to run away, they'll chase you to the ends of the earth with faster run speeds than you.

In From Software's most brilliant trolling work to date, they seem to have figured out what players' natural reactions and tendencies to enemy attacks are, and have designed the enemy AI and attack patterns specifically to exploit your own instincts. When you see an enemy draw its sword over its head and start charging at you, you might wait a moment and then roll to the side, knowing he'll whiff and leave himself exposed for multiple counter-attacks; when you try that in this game, he'll keep charging and turn perfectly to keep up with your roll, unleashing a barrage of attacks on your smug ass while you get chain-stunned into submission. When a dog lunges at you, you might raise your shield, knowing it'll bounce off it and become stunned momentarily, allowing you to attack and kill him; when you try that in this game, it recovers instantly and backsteps, dodging your attack and launching into its own counter-attack that hits while you're stuck in your recovery animation.

Fighting a giant crab in the swamp.

Basically every area in the game has some type of enemies that are just tedious, over-powered, and borderline broken. Giant crabs are impossible to get behind and can attack from all angles, so there's no safe space anywhere around them. Pontiff knights perform seemingly infinite attack combos that close insane distances, so you have almost no time to recover stamina or chug an estus flask. Some of the ordinary hollow soldiers turn into giant blobs of black pus and flail about wildly, all the time. The large, heavily-armored cathedral knights have seemingly infinite poise and constant hyper armor, meaning they will never be staggered by any attack, even from a fully-charged R2 heavy attack from a +10 ultra greatsword. If you're using a light, fast weapon, then you have no choice but to roll dodge constantly (because they have seemingly infinite stamina and will just keep attacking constantly) and poke it once or twice every 5-10 seconds, and if you're using a big, slow weapon then you have no choice but to trade blows with it because it will always be able to attack you during your own attack animation.

It's particularly frustrating that enemies get poise, but you don't. For those of you unfamiliar with the concept, poise is a mechanism introduced in the first Dark Souls, which allowed users wearing heavy armor to absorb hits and take the damage without their actions being interrupted. Poise is an official statistic in Dark Souls III, with a value attributed to every piece of armor and your total poise shown in the statistics screen. There's even a ring whose only function is to increase poise. And yet poise does nothing at all, because it's turned off in the game files. Just like Demon's Souls, heavy armor is therefore completely useless, because it doesn't give you enough damage reduction/absorption to offset the weight penalty or vitality investment required to use it if you're not going to get poise. Poise is a prime example of why combat can feel so annoying and unfair at times, because the enemies aren't playing by the same rules you are. I like how the current system, without poise, puts a strong emphasis on positioning and timing because you'll get punished hard for making mistakes and getting hit, but it's way too easy for the big, slow weapons to get interrupted by faster weapons, even with hyper-armor (frames during large weapons' attacks when you can't be interrupted). 

Another thing that Dark Souls II got right was its implementation of dual-wielding, which let you equip a different weapon in each hand and use their full range of attacks. Additionally, if your strength and dexterity were 50% higher than your weapons required, you could "powerstance," which unlocked a new moveset that used the two weapons together. In Dark Souls III, when you equip a weapon to your off-hand, you only get access to basic light attacks and a crappy, useless block -- no rolling, running, jumping, or heavy attacks. Powerstancing, likewise, has been completely removed. In its place, we get a handful of weapons designated as twin weapons, which occupy one slot and are equipped to your right hand; you dual-wield them by two-handing the weapon. You can equip twin daggers, twin curved swords, twin straight swords, twin katanas, twin spears, twin hammers, and twin axes. Each set of twin weapons has its own unique moveset, but there's generally only one type of each twin weapon set, most of which you can't get until near the end of the game. The twin weapon sets are a lot of fun, but I really, really miss being able to combo any two weapons I wanted.

Killing a villager in the Undead Suburb Settlement.

The new addition in Dark Souls III is weapon arts, unique special abilities assigned to individual weapons, which you can trigger by pressing L2 while two-handing the weapon, or while using certain shields that enable one-handed weapon arts in exchange for not being able to parry or shield bash enemies. Each class of weapon generally has its own ability: katanas put you in a stance which can let you do a lunging quick-strike or a weapon parry; axes let you do a warcry which boosts your damage for a time; maces let you boost your poise for a time (the only instance of player poise actually doing something); curved swords let you do a spin slash; and so on. Unique weapons, including boss weapons, appropriately come with their own unique arts: the moonlight greatsword can fire magic projectiles; the winged knight halberd lets you chain spin attacks until your stamina is depleted; the wolf knight greatsword gives you a spinning jump attack; Wolnir's holy sword lets you cast wrath of the gods, an AOE knockback attack centered around yourself.

All of these weapon arts cost focus points to use, represented by a blue meter between your health and stamina bars. Essentially, it's a return of the mana bar from Demon's Souls, with weapon arts and magic spells drawing from the same energy pool. This is one of my favorite things about Dark Souls III, because I absolutely hated how Dark Souls I & II restricted magic by arbitrarily restricting the number of times you could cast a spell before resting at a bonfire. It felt incredibly cheap and artificial. In Dark Souls III, you get (in addition to your regular estus flask) an ashen estus flask, which replenishes focus points upon consumption. At the start of the game you can only have five total flasks, but you're free to choose your own ratio. If you're a melee fighter, you'll probably take more healing flasks, whereas a mage would stock up more heavily on mana flasks. Additionally, if you want to be a pure spellcaster, you can even level-up your attunement stat, which increases your pool of focus points and thus your total number of spell casts.

I love the new mana system, because it lets you decide for yourself how much you want to be able to cast your spells, and at what cost you're willing to trade for that ability, since putting a ton of points into attunement comes at the expense of putting those points into health or endurance, and carrying more mana flasks means you have fewer healing flasks if you get hit. As a melee fighter, it's also kind of nice to have to think about whether you want to dump some points into attunement so you can use your weapon arts more often. Unfortunately, the whole magic system is still really boring to me, because it still just amounts to hanging back, locking onto your target, and pressing R1 a few times to safely kill your target at range. Mages also seem to require much steeper investments before becoming viable, as compared to a melee character. On a level 43 character focusing almost entirely on faith, I didn't have enough health or stamina to be an effective melee fighter, and my faith wasn't high enough for my faith-scaling weapon and offensive miracles to do any kind of serious damage. Whereas a melee fighter can get their strength or dexterity up to 40 and be set for the entire game, mages don't start seeing reasonable returns on their faith or intelligence until they get up to 60, and by that point the game's almost over.


Online Components / Multiplayer

In stark contrast to Dark Souls II, where invasions were incredibly scarce outside of covenant-designated gank-zones because you could only get a limited quantity of cracked red eye orbs until later in the game, Dark Souls III gives you a few cracked eye orbs right at the start of the game, and quickly rewards you with a full, unlimited-use red eye orb. The White Soapstone, used for summoning friendly phantoms, can be purchased as soon as you get to Firelink Shrine. You're also able to join four of the seven covenants within the first three areas of the game, including the Warriors of Sunlight (friendly co-op) and the Mound-Makers (chaotic phantoms who can be either friendly or hostile) in the second area. You can become a member of the Way of Blue (Blue Sentinels are summoned to defend you if you get invaded) before clearing the first area, and you can join the Blue Sentinels immediately after clearing the second area. So, Dark Souls III does a good job of letting you get involved in the online pvp and co-op scene early on.

Sadly, it's not a complete and total improvement from Dark Souls II. I really liked how Dark Souls II let you be invaded after defeating the area boss, or in certain areas of the game even while hollowed. In Dark Souls III, you cannot be invaded, ever, while unkindled (ie, hollow), which means you can completely avoid invasions from the Watchdogs of Farron or the Aldrich Faithful, two covenants designed to defend their home turf like the Bell-Keepers of Dark Souls II. I really liked how hard it was to get through the bell towers in Dark Souls II, and so it's kind of lame in Dark Souls III that you can just opt out if it's too difficult for you. Likewise, being able to opt out means there's a smaller pool for watchdogs and faithfuls to invade, and since it's based on automatic summons (you equip the covenant items and stand around waiting to get summoned) you can potentially get stuck waiting around for a while, whereas invasions were constant and instantaneous in Dark Souls II.

Getting ganked by the Aldrich Faithful.

The Blue Sentinels and Darkmoon Blade covenants are just straight up broken. Both of these covenants are designed for you to be summoned to help a host running the Way of the Blue fight off invaders, but there's some sort of glitch or design flaw that prevents a lot of people from ever getting summoned. I sat around for an hour-and-a-half with the Blue Sentinels covenant item equipped, broken up into several 10 and 15 minute chunks, and never got summoned once. And yet, after sitting around for 10-15 minutes getting nothing, I could switch covenants and instantly invade somewhere as a red or purple phantom by using the red eye orb. Similarly, I could put down a sunbro sign and be summoned within minutes. People have figured out that it has something to do with your Steam account; by making an entirely new account, family sharing Dark Souls III to that account, and transferring your save files, players who were going hours without getting summoned were instantly being summoned left and right. It's almost as if the older your account is, the lower priority you are for being summoned. Which is pretty much bullshit if that's the case.

It's also really frustrating how the matchmaking system works for invasions. Invasions are prioritized based on how many phantoms a host has summoned; a host with two friendly phantoms is put higher on the priority list to be invaded than an embered host running around by himself. Therefore, as an invader, you're almost always put into 2v1 and 3v1 situations (or 4v1, if a blue shows up), often against teams set up specifically to gank invaders; they set up near a bonfire and just sit around waiting to be invaded, and if any of the phantoms die, the host hangs back and re-summons them. So, as an invader, you're basically always out-numbered, you have less health than the host, and half as many estus flasks. The only possible advantage you have is that mobs will attack the host and his phantoms, but even this can be turned against you if the host pops a Seed of the Giants (which are pretty easy to get), turning the enemies hostile to everyone, including invaders. Every single odd is stacked against you, and it's just not very fun to spend an entire evening invading into situations you're basically guaranteed to lose.

The most horrifying 2v1 ever: Debt and Responsibilities.

I also hate how nearly every single invasion becomes purely a matter of attrition, because of how easy it is to use estus flasks in the heat of a fight and how difficult it is to punish people for doing so. As both an invader and a host, I'm almost always able to roll away, chug a flask, and then dodge the next attack without any consequence; when I manage to land a few hits on someone and get their health low, they're almost always able to roll away and chug a flask while I'm stuck recovering from my own attack animation, or I'm too low on stamina from attacking to sprint and hit them while they're healing. I learned to carry undead hunter charms, which can be thrown to prevent another player from healing, but every time I do that, the other person just runs away until the effect wears off. In a 3v1 situation, which is basically every invasion, I'd get one person down and then get chain-stunned or interrupted by the other two while the person with low health runs off to heal. So basically, in an end-game situation where everyone has a maximum number of estus flasks, it's your seven flasks versus the 29 of the host and his two phantoms.

When you aren't getting ganked by 3v1 fights, you're usually invading a world just as the host triggers the boss fight, or hosts who disconnect immediately, which boot you out of the world as soon as you arrive. I got so tired of it that I just stopped completely, and vowed I would only PVP in 1v1 duels. That, of course, was a lot more fun, because you're on a completely even playing field when fighting another phantom in a designated fight club; winning is purely a matter of personal skill, not who has the most allies or the most estus flasks. But even then, the PVP suffers quite heavily from poor game balancing leading to over-powered tryhard metas. Estocs and straightswords are basically god-tier weapons that do good damage, have a fast rate of attack, catch people coming out of rolls easily, use a small amount of stamina, and have almost the same reach as an ultra greatsword. As an ultra greatsword user, my attacks do more damage, sure, but they use a lot more stamina, and are a lot slower and therefore easier to dodge and interrupt, even with hyper armor preventing interrupts on the second half of the animation.

Getting the host with a critical attack after guard-breaking him.

The meta is so brutally imbalanced that you can actually win duels while blindfolded, just by spamming the light attack button with the right weapons. And if you have a greatshield, especially with a weapon like an estoc that can attack from behind the shield, you're basically invincible. There is no counter for an estoc / greatshield user. Hell, if you two-hand a great shield, you can keep your guard up all the time and use the shield bash skill to attack. If you run into a player running these types of builds, you stand no chance of winning, and may as well quit to find someone else to fight. But with how little skill these builds take to use, combined with how effective they are, you run into them a lot, and it just gets tiring having the same uphill battles every single day.

Shoddy netcode and latency issues make PVP even more frustrating to deal with. All weapons in the game have slightly longer hitboxes than their actual model suggests, and in online fights the game registers your own hitboxes for getting hit based on where you were about a half-second prior, so it often looks like you're getting hit by attacks that were clearly out of range. If your opponent has a higher-than-usual ping from a poor internet connection or from being on the other side of the planet, then you run into extra problems with lag extending the range even further. I can't count the number of times I deliberately backed away from a jumping attack, only to watch my opponent's sword plunge into the ground three feet in front of me as I took full damage from the attack. I also ran into a bunch of issues where other players got stuck in a T-pose gliding around the place, so I couldn't tell when they were attacking, rolling, blocking, switching weapons, or anything.


In Conclusion

Typically with these games, I come to play the PVE campaign, and then stick around because of the online scene -- making alternate characters to help people through the game in jolly cooperation, or setting a character at a specific level with a specific build to invade and troll players in certain areas, or engaging in fight clubs on my main character at the end-game meta. With Dark Souls III, I found myself drawn into both the PVE and PVP aspects of the game, more so than any other game in the series -- maybe even more than my beloved Demon's Souls. And yet, when I ran through the campaign a second time on another character, and a third time in new game plus mode, I started to realize how disappointingly linear the progression through the game actually is, and how quickly the entire second half of the game goes by. The PVP scene was fun for a while, but I got tired of constantly getting ganked during invasions, and got tired of the imbalanced meta during duels. Maybe in a year, everything will be properly balanced, and some DLC will round out that underwhelming feeling of the second half, but until then, meh.

The most scenic area in the game, Irithyll Valley.

So how do I feel about Dark Souls III overall? Obviously, I must have liked it a lot to sink 135 hours into it across multiple characters and playthroughs. The whole time, I kept thinking to myself how much more I was enjoying Dark Souls III than I enjoyed Dark Souls II. Those two facts are probably all you need to know, really. But I should also warn you that Dark Souls III doesn't bring a whole lot of truly new stuff to the table; almost everything in the game, literally, is reminiscent of something From Software has already done in one of their previous games. A lot of things are straight rehashes, direct references to Demon's Souls and Dark Souls, as if From Software are pleading with their audience, "remember those two games you really liked? This game is just like them! Please like our game!"

Playing through Dark Souls III, I felt no grand sense of elation, no euphoria from discovering something new and unexpected, and barely any thrill of beating a tough challenge. The game is mechanically as good as the series has ever been -- better in a lot of ways, with lots of good quality-of-life improvements and streamlining, and just as difficult as you'd expect -- but it's become so routine by this point that I just don't get excited by it anymore. According to the designer, Hidetaka Miyazaki, Dark Souls III is supposed to be the last of the Souls series; if that's the case, then I think I'd be alright with that. Let's try something actually new for a change, and put it on a platform I can actually play, please. 

Killing Floor 2 Early Access: One Year Later

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Killing Floor 2, Tripwire Interactive's cooperative zombie-killing first-person horde-mode shooter, has been in Steam's Early Access for over a year. I've been playing it on and off over the span of the last 14 months, racking up 178 hours of gameplay during that time, usually coming back any time there's a new update, playing for a while, and then eventually losing interest. With the recent release of the "Bullseye Content Pack," which finally introduces the beloved Sharpshooter role from the original Killing Floor, I figured it was time to take another look at KF2 and update you all on where it stands after a year of development, and whether it's worth getting when it inevitably goes on sale this summer.

I wish I could sing praises about how far the game has come since it launched into Early Access, because KF2 is a game I really want to like. The original Killing Floor is the most-played game in my Steam library, and KF2 has a lot of great ideas that would seem to improve upon the successful formula of KF1. And yet, I find myself constantly annoyed by all the decisions Tripwire makes in regards to the game's development. It seems like every time they roll out a new update, it comes with some feature that completely breaks the game, or else makes it significantly less fun to play. With Tripwire's ridiculously slow development process, it then takes months before they get around to fixing things, if they ever address the issue at all. Meanwhile, they can't seem to make up their minds about what they actually want the game to be, which leaves the game feeling like a confused mess that often just isn't very fun to play.

When Tripwire first announced Killing Floor 2 was coming to Steam Early Access, they made a big deal about how this was going to be "Early Access done right," in terms of delivering a thoroughly polished and play-tested product that was basically ready for market, but was just missing a lot of its intended content, which would be complete and ready for official release by the end of 2015. Well, they're now a whole six months past their original release date, and have only just now gotten around to finishing the last of the original roles from KF1, with still two more roles yet to be released. In the meantime, they've seen fit to add Team Fortress 2-style crate drops and micro-transactions for cosmetic items, and even threw out a Left 4 Dead-style player-vs-player game mode, neither of which was part of the original design philosophy people bought into when they signed up for Early Access.


I was a big supporter of Tripwire's cosmetic DLC packs in KF1, mainly because I wanted to support their efforts, but also because they offered players a pretty good value -- four entire character skins for $1.99. With KF2's random crate drops, which give you one of nine or more random items if you're willing to spend $2.49 on a key to unlock them, I planned to ignore them completely because I didn't like the idea of spending money on something without knowing if I would actually like what I got. But after accumulating a few crates I broke down and said "what the hell," bought three keys, and unlocked three crates. I got an ugly pistol skin that was worse than one a friend had already given me, an ugly mask for a character I never intend to play as, and a duplicate copy of the same ugly pistol skin I got off the first crate. So that was $7.47 completely wasted on cosmetics that I was never going to use, and I vowed thereafter that Tripwire would never get another dollar from me buying keys.

As for the player-versus-player game mode, "Versus Survival," I haven't even played it in the two months it's been out because I have absolutely no interest in it. I made a strong effort to get good at Left 4 Dead's PVP mode back in the day, but eventually got sick of the toxic community, with people constantly trash-talking the other side and insulting their own teammates for not being as good at the game as they were. Similarly, I've never been interested in other competitive online shooters (except Tripwire's other game, Red Orchestra 2) for that very reason. The whole appeal of Killing Floor to me was that it's a purely cooperative game where I wouldn't have to put up with those kinds of obnoxious jerks, where people would be more inclined to be nice and helpful towards one another.

Supposedly, the PVP mode was mostly developed in some of the team's spare time, away from the office, but the fact that they spent any official time at all working on it, before finishing the base content, is pretty frustrating. The problem, now that the PVP mode is live and official, is that they have to balance both game modes concurrently -- if something is broken, not balanced very well, or just not that fun in the PVP mode, then they have to spend official time on the clock fixing it, when they could be spending that time working on new perks, new weapons, new maps, other fixes, and so on. And now, when they create new content like that, they have to playtest and balance it for both game modes, which would seem to set back the development cycle even further. Maybe it's not any issue at all, but I just don't see why we needed this game mode when literally no one was asking for it, and hardly anyone is actually playing it now that it's out.


Tripwire's methodology for balancing the game has been really annoying, speaking as someone who's been keeping up with the game's development progress and playing with each and every update. It really seems like they don't have any idea what they're doing, despite their supposed "extensive playtesting." When they realize that something is over-powered, they don't just give it a moderate nerf that they can steadily tweak down as need be, they go all out and nerf the thing into complete and utter uselessness, and then it takes them forever to realize that they didn't actually fix the problem but instead created an entirely new one. Sometimes, if an individual perk or weapon is already pretty weak, they'll accidentally make it weaker by applying a global tweak to the entire game without considering how it affects things individually.

Then you've got things like teleporting enemies, which has been there since day one -- everyone has been vocally against it, and yet Tripwire has insisted on keeping that system in the game. Their goal with the teleporting zeds is to make sure the players are constantly surrounded by enemies and therefore constantly under pressure, so that you can't just run away and let everything follow you at a safe distance. To accomplish this, the game takes enemies that have already spawned and warps them ahead of you to cut off your escape routes, so that every corner you turn, you're running head-first into another glob of enemies. That, frankly, is bullshit, and I can't believe they've left it in the game this long. I understand that desire to keep constant pressure on the players, but it's completely game-breaking for the enemies to magically disregard the laws of physics just to screw over the players at every opportunity. It's not fair, it's unpredictable, and it breaks immersion.

A bloat teleports into the player's path the moment he turns his back (Source).

Another feature Tripwire added to the game, in effect to screw with players even further just for the sake of "balance" -- every zed that hits you now knocks you back about three feet. They did this so that berserkers couldn't just hole up in a narrow doorway and completely block zeds from getting past him, but it has the annoying effect of making all players, even when you're not abusing that particular technique, feel like pinballs getting bounced around all the time. Killing Floor is a game of precision, lining up headshots quickly and efficiently, and timing everything just right; the difference between taking down a big enemy safely versus getting your face ground to a pulp can be just a matter of seconds, and it's so goddamn frustrating having a tiny little crawler defy the laws of physics to knock you three feet out of position just as you were about to fire on a priority target.

Perhaps the biggest insult to injury in this whole development cycle is the "resistance system" they put into effect with the recent sharpshooter update, which makes all enemies arbitrarily and illogically resistant to specific types of damage. Assault rifles would do full damage against crawlers, clots, and stalkers, but do about 20-30% of their normal damage against gorefasts, bloats, sirens, husks, slashers, and alpha clots. Stalkers and crawlers were arbitrarily resistant to shotguns, in the case of the stalkers making a shotgun do about 10-20% of its normal damage. The whole system is broken for two reasons: one, there's absolutely no logic behind why a particular enemy would be 80% resistant to assault rifles, but take full damage from sub-machine guns, and two, because it turned all of the "trash" zeds -- the ones that are easy to kill, but overwhelm you in numbers -- into legitimate bullet sponges, which went directly against Tripwire's original design philosophy of explicitly not making enemies bullet sponges.

This whole time, we've had to go an entire year without perhaps the most iconic, quintessential perk of the original game, the sharpshooter -- the role who specializes in precision rifles and doing high headshot-damage. Until this point, I'd been commenting on how annoying the gameplay was by not having a role that could specialize in taking down the big targets (we had the demolitions expert, but it took nearly a whole year of tweaks before he became decent), because it made the big zeds an utter pain in the ass to take care of. And now that the sharpshooter is out, I feel like all the big zeds die so quickly that they're barely a threat, while all the trash -- the stuff that's supposed to wear you down while spacing out the big threats -- pose the real threat to the team. Clearly there's still a lot of balancing that needs to be done before the game strikes a good chord.


There's a lot of other stuff I could complain about, but it's all highly specific, almost nit-picky stuff. The bottom line is that Killing Floor 2, in its current state, and as it has been for virtually the entirety of these past 14 months, just isn't that fun. When it was released in April 2015, it felt like it the had the bare bones of a good game that just needed more content and a little more polish. Yet, over time, they've been slow to release new content, and have pushed out several balance updates that have altered the gameplay for the worse, ultimately. Everything is just a tedious, chaotic mess with enemies hitting you from all directions, all the time, because they're teleporting ahead of you and spawning right on top of you, and you're always getting bounced around like a pinball while being unable to line up headshots due to the zeds' already crazy-erratic movements, with stuff constantly in your face all the time, shaking the screen and just making life miserable in general.

The good news, here, is that Tripwire may finally be listening to reason, and may finally be treating the Early Access platform like it was intended to be used -- to listen to community feedback and develop the game based around what the community likes and doesn't like. With the most recent update, they've scaled way back on the zed resistances, reverting them almost to what they were before the resistance system was implemented, and have also mentioned that they're looking into ways to change the zed teleportation system. These are positive signs, but they've burned so many bridges along the way that I'm not sure it's enough to win over enough of the playerbase who has turned their backs on the game. Because, even with these changes, Killing Floor 2 is still a long way out from reaching its potential, or even resembling a finished product. 

Impressions of The Witcher 3: Wild Hunt

Board Game Review: King of Tokyo

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King of Tokyo is a dice-chucking game designed by Richard Garfield (creator of Magic: The Gathering), originally published by IELLO Games in 2011, in which players take the role of epic Godzilla-sized monsters battling for supremacy over Tokyo. Players roll a handful of dice each turn, picking which results to keep and re-rolling any unwanted dice two more times, Yahtzee-style, for a total of three rolls. The dice results determine your actions for that turn: each claw rolled deals a point of damage to other monsters, each heart heals you by one point, each lightning bolt gives you energy to spend on upgrade cards (which can grant you permanent bonuses or one-time benefits), and rolling three or more of the same number grants you that many star points.

At the heart of the game is Tokyo city, where monsters vie for control via a king of the hill type of mechanism -- only one monster can be in Tokyo at a time (two if playing with five or six players), and you get star points for going into and staying in Tokyo. While in Tokyo, your attacks hit every monster outside of Tokyo, but you can't heal unless you cede the city and flee to the outskirts, allowing someone else to swoop in and lay claim to Tokyo. Meanwhile, every monster outside of Tokyo attacks inwards, hitting whomever's in Tokyo. You win the game by being the first to reach 20 star points, or by being the last monster standing.

The relatively light rules, short playtime (30 minutes, according to the box), and whimsical nature of the game, what with its cartoon monsters punching each other and evolving over the course of the game to gain jet packs and fire breathing abilities, among countless other possibilities, all combine to make King of Tokyo a consensus "gateway" or "family" game. This is the type of game you buy when you're first getting into the hobby, or when you want a game to play with people who aren't interested in heavy strategy games with lots of rules and complexities. Its esteemed reputation among board game enthusiasts on BoardGameGeek and r/boardgames gave me enough confidence to buy King of Tokyo two years ago, when I was first starting my board game collection, and indeed, it was a lot of fun early on. But now, two years later, I just don't enjoy it very much.

The six monsters of the base game. From left to right: Meka Dragon, 
Alienoid, The King, Cyber Bunny, The Kraken, and Gigazaur.

At first glance, the game makes it seem like you have a lot of options open to you at any given moment, with several different strategies to pursue: are you going to be aggressive and try to win by just knocking everyone else's health down to zero, or are you going to be more passive and try to roll combinations of numbers to score star points, or do you want to build up a lot of energy so you can buy upgrade cards, or do you want to try to get in and hold Tokyo as long (and as often) as possible? When it comes down to it, however, this is a game of pure chance, and more often than not you're stuck simply doing what the dice tell you to do. In effect, King of Tokyo often feels like a game of "roll the dice three times and see what happens," with any strategy frequently offset or determined by random luck.

A lot of times, your decision of how to play the game is almost made for you by your initial roll on each turn -- if you roll a bunch of threes, you're not going to pass on those unless you're on the verge of death and in dire need of healing. Other times, when you have a specific goal in mind at the start of your turn, like "I just need two energy to buy this card I've been trying to get for three turns," you find yourself bitterly disappointed when you come up short and don't get what you need. Other times, you can find yourself frustrated beyond belief when the dice force you to do the exact opposite of what you wanted, like when you're low on health and just want to heal, and on your final roll you get stuck with a bunch of claws which force the current occupant of Tokyo out of the city, thereby forcing you to go in and likely take a beating while you're already low on health.

I'm generally fine with random elements in games, but I find the randomness in King of Tokyo just a little too much to bear. For starters, there are virtually no ways to manipulate the dice to mitigate luck, unless you're lucky enough to get one of four cards from the 66-card deck (only three of which are displayed for purchase at a time) that let you change dice, but even these are lackluster. They form such a small percentage of cards that you could play multiple games in a row and never see any of them, just by random luck of the shuffling. Even if you do get one of these cards, they're so limiting ("change any one of your dice to a 1,""change one die to any result, then lose this ability," etc) that they're almost useless. Meanwhile, I don't like that some dice can do absolutely nothing for you, allowing for the possibility of definitively "bad" rolls if you end up with something like two 2s and two 3s, wherein two-thirds of your dice are completely wasted with no effect.

A sample of upgrade cards, with their energy cost in the top left and 
effect description on the bottom.

Obviously, the randomness is supposed to work well in a party or family setting where you might want an even playing field so that everyone, regardless of skill level or familiarity with the game, has a nearly even chance of winning the game. But even in these types of settings I find the gameplay lacking. Player elimination is never a good thing in modern game design (how can anyone be having fun if they're forced not to participate) and King of Tokyo actively encourages it. Sure, you don't have to be aggressive, and the rules for who you attack take a lot of the personal sting out of it, but I've seen a lot of people get eliminated in the first 10-15 minutes of the game, sometimes because of one bad decision, and then they have to sit and watch for 30 minutes, meaning they immediately lose interest and tune out.

King of Tokyo is sometimes described as a "filler" game, the type of fast, simple game you play to kill time waiting for others to show up, or when people want to play another game at the end of the night but don't have enough time for a longer game. The box claims a 30 minute playing time, but my playtimes average much closer to 45 minutes, which I feel is a little too long to play a game about rolling dice and seeing what happens. The game always seems to drag on longer than it should because of how it forces people to shy away from game-winning strategies like aggressive offensive or scoring points when they get under half health, re-rolling claws and numbers so that they can heal their wounds just to stay in the game longer, thereby extending the game several rounds just to maintain a status quo.

The first expansion, Power Up, is considered by many gamers to be an essential addition to the base game because it adds a little extra weight and complexity to the game. In the base game, the only difference between monsters is cosmetic; they all function exactly alike, until you start purchasing upgrade cards with energy. With the Power Up expansion, each monster gets its own unique "evolution" deck that roughly matches that monster's theme and appearance. Meka Dragon, for instance, has a lot of ways to deal extra damage, whereas The King gets extra bonuses for being in Tokyo. Per the official rules, you can choose to start the game with everyone drawing a random evolution from the top of their deck, or else begin symmetrically with no evolutions. You can gain additional evolutions over the course of the game any time you roll three hearts. This, however, has the effect of prolonging the game even longer as people spend more turns rolling for hearts, even when they don't need them, just to get an evolution card.

The Power Up expansion, with one sample evolution card from 
each monster's deck of eight. 

Power Up is indeed a nice addition to King of Tokyo, because it makes it just a little bit more of a gamer's game. And since it's a modular addition, you can choose to incorporate it with more advanced gamers or leave it out when playing with less experienced players. I like how it gives monsters a bit of personality, though I've had a few players (myself included) end up not liking their favorite monster's decks. Part of it is, simply, that there's a lot of variance within each monster's deck, with some cards just being more useful than others. "Twas Beauty Killed the Beast" in The King's deck, for instance, gives him a bonus point after each player's turn (including his own) as long as he's still in Tokyo, but he loses all of his stars if he ever leaves. One player drew that as his very first evolution and was never able to play it during the entire game, because he knew he'd get killed or knocked out of Tokyo before winning the game, which would set him further back from winning. Meanwhile, everyone else had some kind of useful evolution that was helping them from the very beginning, and he felt bitter and frustrated by his "useless" card.

I've played King of Tokyo with five different groups of people, including my usual gaming group of personal friends, my extended family, and three different groups of coworkers. My family said it was fun, but no one was visibly excited by anything and enjoyed other games we played that night (Tales of the Arabian Nights and Survive: Escape From Atlantis) better. My usual gaming group played it twice when I first bought it, and we've never played it since. The first group of coworkers liked it at first, but then I introduced them to Pandemic and no one wanted to go back. The second group of coworkers loved it. The third group of coworkers did not care for it at all and stated they would rather play any other game I'd brought previously (One Night Ultimate Werewolf, Dixit, Spyfall, The Metagame, FUSE, etc). In essence, King of Tokyo has only been a hit with one out of five groups, in my experience, while everyone else was indifferent about it or actively disliked it.

A closer look at the dice, energy cubes, and tokens used to track 
abilities from upgrade cards. 

I originally rated King of Tokyo an 8/10 on BGG's scale ("Very good. Like to play, will probably suggest it, will never turn it down") when I started playing it two years ago, but I've since lowered that score to a 6/10 ("Fair. Some fun or challenge at least, will play occasionally if in the right mood"), though I'm tempted to lower that score even further because there are plenty of other games I've rated the same (or lower) that I'd rather play over King of Tokyo. Maybe I'm just not a big fan of dice-rolling Yahtzee-style games, but even within this specific sub-genre, I own other similar types of games that I'd much rather play: Cosmic Run for its greater ways to use and manipulate the dice, and the fact that no die is ever completely wasted; Run Fight or Die for its heavier thematic involvement and the almost puzzle-like player boards; and Bang! The Dice Game for its shorter playtime and hidden roles.

There's some excitement to be had while playing King of Tokyo, like those moments when someone rolls five or six claws and manages to knock two or more monsters out of the game, or when someone rolls a bunch of 3s and skyrockets up the star points dial, but these moments of glory are usually offset by the much more frequent occasions when you just want one more heart, or one more energy, or one more claw, or one more number, and can't for the life of you get the dice to roll in your favor. The components are all well-produced, with the over-sized, custom-engraved dice and the sturdy character stands and dials, and the theme offers the game a fun, whimsical tone that just about anyone can enjoy. Sadly, the gameplay doesn't always do it for me, or the people I've played with, as it often feels like the game is playing itself, and you're just rolling the dice to see what happens. 

The Witcher 3 Review

The Witcher 3: The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly

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I've had nothing but tremendous respect for Polish developer CD Projekt RED ever since I played their 2007 debut, The Witcher. That game quickly vaulted its way into my short list of all-time favorite RPGs. Their 2011 followup, The Witcher 2: Assassin of Kings, was really solid as well, and I especially admired how the middle portion of the game branched in completely separate directions depending on your choices. What they and their parent company have been doing with GOG.com, meanwhile -- picking up licenses for older games, updating them to work on modern platforms, and selling them completely DRM-free at reasonable prices -- combined with their continued support for TW1 and TW2 -- putting a ton of effort into the Enhanced Edition of both games and releasing the updates completely free -- has made them a shining example of a game company doing good within the industry and treating their customers right.

The 2013 and 2014 E3 previews for The Witcher 3: Wild Hunt generated a ton of hype, leading some publications to declare it their mostanticipatedgame of 2015. Understandably so -- how could you not be excited over the prospect of CD Projekt's masterful storytelling and quest design applied to a vast open world? I was skeptical when it was first announced that the game would be open-world, but I held out hope that CD Projekt could pull it off, given their track record of success and how much they seem to understand game design. The Witcher 3 was subsequently released in May of 2015 to universal acclaim, and shattered records for the most "Game of the Year" awards ever bestowed upon one game. I figured, at that point, that CD Projekt had defied my expectations and managed to craft a huge open-world RPG that captured all the best elements of open-world games while still retaining the unique soul and elements that made The Witcher series so great in the previous two installments. And then I actually played it.

It turns out that The Witcher 3: Wild Hunt is not the perfect masterpiece everyone claims it to be. It's really, really good, mind you, and I'd say it's easily one of the best open-world RPGs ever created. But that praise and distinction doesn't shield it from criticism, and the fact remains that there are a lot of critical areas in which TW3 comes up short, outright disappoints, or else simply isn't as good as it could've been. There's a lot of stuff to talk about with a game this size, so I won't even try to craft this review into a paragraph-by-paragraph flowing essay; instead, I'll break it down into specific topics and categorize them based on three of Clint Eastwood's timeless criteria: The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly.


DISCLAIMER

Before jumping into the full review text I want to point out that you may discover a few contradictions; I might say one thing and then later state the opposite, because some issues are a double-edged sword, with two sides to every coin, both positive and negative, and other similar idiomatic expressions, and I wanted to make sure I was covering every valid angle when I could or found it appropriate to do so. I also make a lot of generalizations because this is a long game and I can't always remember every little detail about it, even though I take a lot of notes on specific things that I notice as I'm playing. These statements are not absolutes and do not apply to the game universally; they're generalizations because they tend to apply a significant amount of the time. If you haven't already played the game, let it be known now that this article contains some minor spoilers, but I tried not to spoil any of the major moments. Either way, you should probably not click on any hyperlinks unless you've already played the game or don't care about potential spoilers.


THE GOOD: The audiovisual aesthetics are outstanding

The Witcher 3 has some of the best graphics I've ever seen in a video game. Mind you, I don't have a blistering rig that can run everything at UltraMaxx4KHD™, and I don't play a lot of modern, cutting-edge games. I'm also not someone who cares much about graphics; I rarely write about graphics in my reviews because I'm ultimately much more interested in how a game feels to play than how it is to look at, but in the interest of giving credit where credit is due, I must stress how good TW3 really is in this department. It looks friggin' amazing.


Draw distances can be an issue in open-world games, with things in the horizon rendered at such low detail that they look like blurry smudges, and things fading in and out of existence as you move towards or away from them. When a game is rendering a ton of things over a long distance, it has to cut corners somewhere for the sake of performance; TW3 implements these typical performance-saving measures, but it's in such a subtly smooth and effective way that I rarely ever noticed it. If I stopped for a moment and really focused on a building in the distance, I could guess that it wasn't being rendered in full detail, but everything looks so good, even in low detail, that I never gave it any notice. Shadows and vegetation extend far enough that I almost never saw the cut-off point, where the game stops rendering them, unless I was at a really high altitude looking down on everything. Even then, the transition between "grass" and "no grass" was smooth enough that it never stood out to me, and never pulled me out of the experience.

The amount of stuff that's crammed into every frame, everywhere you look, is simply astounding. Never before have I seen so much vegetation and underbrush in a video game; it's so thick in some areas you can't even see the ground beneath it. When you walk into Novigrad, the big city in the North, you find so many NPCs bustling around market squares, shipping docks, and other major hubs of activity that you can't even walk down the street without bumping into someone. I was blown away when I zoomed in on Geralt's shoulder and could vividly see every individual link in his chainmail armor. Nvidia's HairWorks adds tens of thousands of tessellated strands to characters' hair, allowing each strand to react to movement independently of one another, but even with it turned off (HairWorks is a big resource hog), hair still looks really good thanks to the multiple layered meshes that still flow and react to movement.


Dialogue scenes are really engaging in TW3 because they have such a strong cinematic style to them, not just in terms of camera angles and the like, but also in terms of "acting" and directing -- in other words, all the deliberate decisions someone had to make in terms of how a character should be acting during a scene, and crafting their animations to capture that feeling and framing the camera in an interesting way that also highlights different elements of a scene. I usually hate it when games strive to be like movies, because it tends to ruin the gameplay when an invisible game director yanks the camera and controls away from you to show you something exactly as he envisioned it, instead of letting you just be in the game and experience things for yourself. But it really works in TW3 because it's such a heavily story-driven game, and it helps to make the characters and the story itself more interesting. And ultimately, the dialogue and cutscenes make up only a small percentage of how you spend your time in the game, so they feel more like pleasant additions to the game, instead of an obnoxious detraction.

The dialogue sequences also showcase all of the great facial expressions and animations. When you think about it, the difference between emotions and how they appear on one's face can be incredibly subtle, and I'd imagine it's one of the most difficult things to do when it comes to graphic design in video games. And CD Projekt pulls it off really well, conveying several dynamic emotional ranges for a single character within just one scene. Just take a look at this conversation between Geralt and Yennefer; in just a few seconds she goes from exasperation to concern, which then becomes almost pleading optimism. She then becomes pointed when discussing what must be done, and when she mentions there being one more thing, she gives a look of annoyance before addressing it. Finally, there's that look in her eyes right at the two-minute mark, when she realizes that Geralt interpreted her instructions for how to use the detector with sexual innuendo.


The music is top of the line as well. The soundtrack uses a lot of traditional folk instruments to capture the sort of folklore-fantasy atmosphere in which The Witcher is set, and in fact, a lot of the music was actually composed and performed by a real Polish folk band that took its name (Percival) and inspiration from The Witcher novels by Andrzej Sapkowski. They actually performed an entire concert of mostly music from TW3. This song of theirs, Silver for Monsters, is used as combat music, and it has this really awesome, raw tone that just gets me so pumped, with that primal scream and the vocal chanting over top of the droning tones, pounding drums, and accented string rhythms. Other songs, like The Fields of Ard Skellig by CD Projekt's own composer, Marcin Przybyłowicz, are just so beautiful and tranquil that, when I washed up on the shores of Skellige, I stopped everything and just slowly trotted around on horseback in awe of the sights and sounds.


THE GOOD: All characters have personality and motivation

Every, single, character in TW3 is fully voiced. That itself is not unusual in this day and age (it's practically expected from any major studio), but the scale to which it applies in TW3 is almost beyond comprehension. According to information gathered by IGN, the script for TW3 had over 450,000 words of dialogue (supposedly four novels' worth of text), with 950 speaking roles. It took 2.5 years just to record all the dialogue. Even that, though, really isn't all that impressive; it just took a lot of time and resources. What's impressive is that every single character, from Geralt's most important and closest companions down to the most insignificant of random people asking for help by the side of the road, has some kind of personality and motivation that shows based on how they talk, and how they behave in dialogue.


When you have a world made up of thousands of people, with 950 people you can actually talk to, it's really easy for the writing to devolve into terse exchanges that simply check the boxes of what needs to be accomplished in the conversation, and it can start to feel bland and repetitive after a while. But the writing and voice acting in TW3 brings every character to life in such a believable and engaging way; even if a character is someone you'll only ever talk to once, for just a few minutes, they feel genuine because someone (the writer, the director, the actor) made a conscious decision about why a character is saying the things he or she is saying, and why a character is the way that he or she is. Not every character is totally unique or memorable, but every character fits in where they belong in the grand scheme of things, and none of them stand out in a negative way.

The main characters, in particular, are fleshed out extremely well, showing all different sides of their personalities and often struggling with internal conflicts over what they want and how they should act. Yennefer, for instance, is rather brusque and pragmatic -- she's short and to-the-point with people, not caring how her words or tone might affect someone's feelings, and resorts to dark sorceries, breaking the law, and sabotaging ancient mystical relics without a second thought when it serves her interests in a more efficient manner than another alternative -- but most of her actions in the game are guided by a deep love and concern for Ciri and Geralt. While others typically only see her as a cold, manipulative witch who's always scheming behind people's backs, usually for her own self-gain, we see her getting into whimsical pun battles with Geralt, crying out when Ciri is in danger, and yearning to put the sorceress politics aside and settle down with Geralt and grow old together.


THE GOOD: Recurring characters keep the story connected

Most of your usual friends from the previous games like Vesemir, Lambert, Eskel, Dandelion, Zoltan, and Triss make appearances in TW3 and help you out on your main quest of finding Ciri, and most of the main characters stay with you over the course of the entire game, coming and going as quests and meet-ups call for their presence. A lot of side characters end up involved in multiple quests that take place in different acts of the game, which helps to build a rapport with them so that you care when they're involved in later events, because it's something happening to someone you know and care about. Similarly, a lot of characters you meet and help out over the first half of the game come back to help you later when you have to cash in a favor for a favor, which lets you see how people's situations have changed since you last saw them 50 or 100 hours ago.



THE GOOD: The world feels real

With a lot of these big open-world games, there's a common tendency for the worlds themselves to feel phony and artificial because the designers just churn out landscapes and paste a bunch of content all over the map with little concern for how anything relates to anything else, why things are the way they are, or how the world exists and operates independent of the player character. The world in TW3 has a very precise, hand-crafted feel to it -- there's something interesting to see everywhere you look, nothing feels like it's been copy-pasted, and everything exists for some kind of purpose. What's really interesting, though, is how much backstory and atmosphere you pick up just from all the subtle, ambient details.


Following the events of TW2, the kingdoms are now waging war against each other, with the Nilfgaardian empire trying to push its control further south. The game doesn't beat you over the head about being a war game, however -- you simply see the effects of the war, never actually taking part in it, as if you were any common citizen. You see scorched battlefields where the dead are left to rot in their suits of armor. You see villages that were once raided by invading armies, still struggling to recover. You encounter wounded soldiers from either side seeking refuge in an abandoned shed, or about to be lynched by villagers. You see squabbles and brawls in bars over which kingdom's insignia should be on display. You find a ton of currency from the previous regime, which is completely worthless until you take it to a bank to exchange for real money. It's a cohesive theme that permeates almost everything in the game, and it gives you a strong feeling that, even though you're not actually seeing the battles being fought, this war is serious and is taking its toll.

A lot of times video game worlds feel like playgrounds or theater stages built solely to accommodate the main player-character. This is still true of TW3, as it is, ultimately, with basically every game ever created, but the amount of stuff that happens around you in TW3, sometimes beyond your control or whether you're there or not, really helps to make the world feel more real, natural, and immersive.


THE GOOD: The world shows signs of dynamic elements

With worlds this big, they tend to remain pretty static throughout the game, rarely reacting to your presence in any kind of significant way. This, I imagine, is because the sandbox nature of these games typically requires that the designers allow for any possibility at any time -- if you change the world-state too much, or too drastically, then it could start to conflict with other quests. The Witcher 3, being itself one of these vast open-world games, can only change the world so much and still allow you to access all of its content, but it still manages to change its facade over the course of the game, sprinkling in enough changes to make the world seem like it's reacting to your presence and even affecting quests in a few ways.


The biggest examples center around the city of Novigrad. With King Radovid turning the city upside down in search of witches to burn at the stake, he eventually puts the city under lockdown while you're away so that, when you come back, the guards deny your access unless you can produce a gate pass. Later, if you complete a side-quest to help the mages sneak out of town, the witch hunt sets its sights on non-humans, and you're greeted with elves and dwarves being executed outside the main gate as you return to town. If you've completed that side-quest before getting to a certain point in the main quest, then it affects your options since your dwarven friend Zoltan is no longer able to roam around the city, because he's afraid of being lynched by the city guard.

Similarly, your actions in one area can affect your interactions somewhere else nearby. When you arrive in Velen, the point in the game when they take the training wheels off and let you loose in the giant open world, your first objective takes you to a local tavern to gather information. Once there, you're confronted by some of the Bloody Baron's henchmen, the self-proclaimed ruler of Velen whom you have to go through to progress the main quest. How you deal with his henchmen affects your relationship and interactions with the Baron before you've even met him, and can make the initial goings tougher or easier when you finally make contact with him.


THE GOOD: Fast-travel and horseback from the beginning

The size of the world map in TW3 is supposedly bigger than Grand Theft Auto V and The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim combined. I'm not sure I believe those numbers, but I do know that TW3 is pretty damn big. With a world that big, there need to be measures in place to help you get across it quickly and conveniently, because it's not very fun to have to spend 10 minutes at a time holding down the "forward" key to get anywhere. On the other hand, you don't want to make alternative means of travel too quick or convenient, because you want players to feel rooted in the game world and not continually skip by it. The Witcher 3 perfectly balances these two issues with its inclusion of fast-travel and horseback, both of which are available to you from the very beginning of the game.


Fast-travel is restricted to the use of signposts, which are present outside of cities and villages, and also found at major roadside intersections. If you want to warp somewhere instantly, you have to make your way to a signpost first, and you can only warp to other signposts you've already discovered. You therefore have to explore the entire world on-foot -- even if you warp somewhere, the signposts aren't at every single location on the map, so you still need to get to your final destination the old-fashioned way -- which helps you to become more familiar with the world and feel more physically attached to it. And yet, getting around without the benefit of fast-travel is never a tedious, time-wasting endeavor because you always have access to your trusty horse companion, Roach. Just whistle and she'll run in from somewhere off-screen, ready to help speed you along to your next destination.


THE GOOD: Interesting quests with engaging storylines

Most of the quests, whether they're part of the main story or trivially inconsequential side-quests, have something interesting going on, with some reason for you to care about seeing them through to their conclusions. In one quest, you accompany Triss to an elegant, high-class masquerade ball. You're there to help an alchemist get out of town before the witch hunters come for him, but all you really do is walk around talking to people, not even making a lot of important decisions. It's a pretty simple quest in terms of gameplay, but it's fun just to be there witnessing the events, listening to conversations, and simply appreciating the unique atmosphere.


One of my favorite quests, "A Towerful of Mice," has you working with the sorceress Keira Metz, who wants your help lifting a plague-like curse that's afflicted Fyke Island, where the former lord of Velen and his daughter died. The island itself has this really ominous, spooky vibe about it, with you using a magic lamp to hunt for ghosts and piece together the island's history. Eventually, you meet the ghost of Annabelle, the lord's daughter, who asks you to take her bones to her beloved, whom you discover lives in a nearby fishing village. With her bones buried by her lover, the curse, she says, will be lifted. At that point you have a couple different options about how to proceed, both of which result in a somewhat tragic success.

I remember one quest in which a village asked me to help defend one of their people from bandits, and I rolled my eyes at such a cliche premise, but went along with it. The bandits showed up and their leader tried to explain her side of things, but I wasn't going to be persuaded that easily and fought them off. It turned out she was a werewolf, and upon looting her corpse I discovered a letter from her parents that gave her an entire backstory. She was born of a human and werewolf, and lost both of her parents to a show-trial execution because one of the villagers snitched on them. Her parents wrote to her before their deaths telling her that they loved her, that they believed lycanthropy was not a thing of evil, and implored her to lead a good life. She was just out to avenge her parents' deaths, and I felt kind of bad about killing her. What I thought was going to be a simple one-and-done, forgettable quest ended up having a surprising amount of narrative purpose to it.


THE GOOD: Tough moral dilemmas

There was a time when games had a bad habit of portraying moral and ethical issues in pure black or white -- you're either Adolf Hitler or Mother Theresa, with no room for anything in-between. When The Witcher came along in 2007, it made a deliberate effort to blur those lines into more realistic shades of gray with no clear right or wrong -- just two choices, and two different outcomes. The Witcher 3 continues to carry that torch by frequently placing you in situations when you have to make a tough choice, which adds a lot of extra weight to the gameplay and forces you to think long and deep about what you're doing.


At one point you come across a Nilfgaardian soldier about to by lynched by three locals; if you choose to stay out of it and let him be killed, you can check his corpse and find a letter on him that reveals him to be an honest, well-intentioned family man who was deserting the army to go back to his wife and child. If you decide to stand up for him, before learning any of this, then you have to kill the three villagers in self-defense, and Geralt makes a comment to the soldier, when he expresses his gratitude, that if he hadn't have gotten involved only one person would've died instead of three. In this situation, knowing the two outcomes, would you choose the option that results in the loss of less life, or the one that saves one life you know to be good at the expense of three others that you don't really know?

In another quest, you come across another witcher from the school of the cat, who slaughtered an entire village after being cheated out of payment for a contract and getting stabbed in the side with a pitchfork. The guy was clearly way out of line and did not warrant killing all those innocents, but when faced with a decision, I couldn't bring myself to kill him because I didn't feel like it was my place to judge him. Later on, you meet up with some old friends who're conspiring to assassinate King Radovid because his madness is leading to a lot of civil unrest and war-torn bloodshed, and you have the option to go along with their plan or back out, and I struggled big time trying to figure out if regicide was really the right choice or not.


THE GOOD: There is a ton of content

The Witcher 3 is a long game, with a lot of stuff to do in it. It's so long that it took me 134 hours over the course of three-and-a-half months to "finish" the base game. I know for a fact that I haven't done 100% of everything there is to do in the base game, and I haven't even started the two DLC expansions (which now come bundled in the $50 "Game of the Year Edition") that supposedly add another 20-30 hours of content, each. That's an insane amount of value for your dollar. And it's not just the amount of content that creates that value -- it's the fact that it's all quality content, with everything feeling hand-crafted and serving a specific purpose.


THE GOOD: A buttery-smooth, well-polished experience

I started playing TW3 over a year after its initial release, so it had received extensive patching long before I even started playing, and even received a few major updates while I was playing, one of which was a major overhaul of the user interface. I can't vouch for how the game felt at launch, but in its current state, TW3 ran buttery smooth for me and felt totally polished and 99% bug-free.


In similar games of this size, it would not be unusual to find a bunch of small graphical imperfections like floating objects, missing textures, misaligned seams, and so on, but I never noticed anything of this sort, with just three or four exceptions. Likewise, it would not be unusual to encounter weird glitches like animations spazzing out, or characters getting stuck running in place, or enemies clipping through walls. Again, I never encountered anything like this, with just a handful of small exceptions. These are the kinds of utterly tiny, insignificant imperfections that would usually slip through a less-diligent or less-resourceful team's quality assurance process, and there's barely anything of this sort in TW3.

In 134 hours, the worst things I ever experienced were: (1) a completed quest that never moved itself from the "active" to "completed" tab in my quest log, (2) a quest-giver from a completed quest got stuck with the yellow exclamation-point next to his name and on the mini-map, (3) a treasure chest underwater that I couldn't reach because an invisible wall prevented me from diving any lower, (4) one occasion when I couldn't climb onto my boat because I kept dropping back into the water when the climb animation finished, and (5) a stretch of time when Roach's tail disappeared from the game, before returning in a patch. That's not to say there weren't other issues, but anything else was so insignificant that it never bothered me and never took away from that smooth, polished feeling of the game.


THE GOOD: I really like the Skellige isles

The bulk of the game takes place in Velen and Novigrad, which consist of one giant map with zero loading zones. Both of these areas have good atmospheres and theming (Velen's murky swamps and dreary half-dead forests really bring out its reputation as "No Man's Land"), but I found myself especially enamored with the Skellige isles out west, which evoke a strong Nordic vibe with their snowy mountains and honor-bound clans of warrior-societies. As I mentioned in the audiovisual aesthetics section above, the landscapes are a thing of beauty simply to gaze upon, especially in conjunction with that wistful music.


Skellige also sets itself apart from the other regions of the game in terms of its gameplay mechanics. The mountainous terrain gives each island a lot of vertical space to explore. Each island is itself a relatively small, confined space -- this helps to guide exploration so you don't feel like you're wandering aimlessly along a vast landscape -- but they're ultimately more satisfying to explore because they cram more complexity into the folds of a smaller space. The vertical levels hide a bunch of content out of sight, on the other side of a mountain face, or underground, or in the folds of a ravine. Everywhere else in the game is mostly a matter of seeing something on the horizon and just making a beeline for it, but Skellige really stimulates your curiosity because you never know what you're going to find until you find it, which had me constantly in this wondrous "what's out there" kind of mood.


THE GOOD: Lots of tie-ins and references to TW1

One of my biggest issues with TW2 is that it didn't really feel like a Witcher game to me because of how much it strayed from the themes and gameplay mechanics that were established in the first game. The Witcher 3 feels pretty similar to TW2, in terms of gameplay and presentation, but I really appreciate how much effort CD Projekt went through to tie TW3 in with TW1. It was really nostalgic to go back to Kaer Morhen and spend time catching up with your fellow witchers Vesemir, Eskel, and Lambert, and it was cool how that whole section of the game dealt so heavily with what life is like as a witcher, and how it shed new light on things like the trials of becoming a witcher. The central plot of TW3, meanwhile, is actually laid out by a specific line of dialogue said by the King of the Wild Hunt to Geralt in TW1. There's also a really neat easter egg in the bookshop of Novigrad in which you receive a letter from one of the main characters of TW1.



THE GOOD: Humor and easter eggs

You wouldn't expect, in a world as serious as the entire Witcher saga, to find as much humor and fun off-the-wall moments as there are in TW3. Geralt himself can be a wise-ass at times, dropping witty one-liners, insults, and dry puns at the drop of a hat. You're in for some smiles any time you interact with a troll, and basically any quest with Dandelion is sure to end up with some kind of theatrical absurdity. Other scenes go in hilariously unexpected directions depending on what you do, like if you try to romance both Yennefer and Triss, or if you decide to get drunk with Lambert and Eskel. All-the-while you run into a ton of easter eggs and pop-culture references, probably my favorite of which involves a quest to shut down the Defensive Regulatory Magicon (DRM) of a mage's tower by using Gottfried's Omni-opening Grimoire (GOG).


THE GOOD: Elaborate journal, beastiary, and quest entries

There's a ton of information to process in TW3, and thankfully the user interface is a Godsend for helping you keep track of everything. From the menu, you can access detailed character biographies (helpful in case you forget who certain characters are, or if you've never played the previous games and therefore never met them, and want to learn more about them), beastiary entries that let you read up on the lore of all of the Witcher universe's unique monsters, and quest entries that narrate each step of the quest in the form of a story. None of this is absolutely essential for the game, and it all has zero effect on the actual gameplay, but it's a really nice touch just to have this information available if you desire to enlighten yourself more.



THE GOOD: A more useful inventory screen

The Witcher 1 had a pretty solid grid-based inventory system that let you see everything at a glance, just by looking at the icons for every item, with bigger items taking up more spaces in the grid. Then, for some reason, TW2 turned the inventory into a text-based list with abstract item weights attached to everything. It was a pain and a bother to use. Thankfully, CD Projekt have gone with a more TW1-style inventory this time around, giving us grids with graphic icons for items, and even allowing us to sort items by tabs like in TW2. It's a small thing to be sure, but since you spend so much time dealing with your inventory in this game, it's a nice quality of life feature that the inventory screen be sleek and easy to use.


THE BAD: Horrible first impressions

I was really put-off by TW3 at first; everything felt like a horrendous mess. Movement controls felt stiff, clunky, and unresponsive, causing me to constantly bump into things and struggle simply walking through a doorway. The intro features a ton of heavy-handed tutorials that pause the game in the middle of the action to bombard you with walls of text explaining how things work. The HUD looked so cluttered and busy that I didn't really understand what was going on with all of it. And the combat was so rough trying to get a feel for everything that I spent 15 minutes dying and loading my save, just trying to survive the first fight that happens literally seconds after you finish the tutorial and are finally let loose in the world.


Were I not a seasoned gamer with the patience to endure rough starts and put in the time getting used to things, I might not have made it past the opening 30 minutes. Maybe that's a bit of an exaggeration, but I didn't feel comfortable with the game until I was an hour or two into it, and didn't really start enjoying myself until about two or three hours into it. In the grand scheme of a 134 hour playthrough, those first couple of hours are pretty insignificant, but it's never a good thing to start off a new experience on bad footing, because some people might not have the patience to stick around until it supposedly "gets better."


THE BAD: Game balance is non-existent

Typical game balance involves easing the player into the game by making things slower and simpler at the start, giving you time to figure out how the game works as you start getting your feet wet, and then slowly increasing the difficulty towards the game's ending so that, as you become more experienced and develop greater mastery of the game, it gets harder to match your increasing skill level, thereby pushing you to get better over the course of the game.

The Witcher 3 is almost the exact opposite of this; it starts the difficulty out at its absolute hardest, right from the start, and maintains a decent amount of challenge only for about 10-20 hours. Around that 10-20 hour mark you start crafting your first set of witcher's gear and unlocking enough skill slots to finally get some decent bonuses, thereby resulting in a steep drop-off in difficulty as the game instantly gets easier, and continues to get progressively easier over the entire rest of the game.


While it's true that there's some satisfaction in getting stronger and eventually breezing your way past all the obstacles that were giving you so much difficulty in the beginning, that point happens so ridiculously early in TW3 that it's more pitiful than satisfying. It's like playing a game of basketball where you're up by 60 points at halftime, and don't even need to play the second half. I started out on the hardest difficulty, "Death March," and had to take it down a notch almost immediately because the game was kicking my ass so badly while I was still struggling to get a feel for the combat. But then, about 30-40 hours in, the supposed hard difficulty ("Blood and Broken Bones") started to feel more like easy mode. I considered bumping the difficulty back up to Death March, but felt like that would just prolong every fight by simply inflating enemy health values.


THE BAD: Combat is shallow and boring

Combat has never been all that sophisticated in this series, but it's mindlessly simple in TW3. Melee combat, at its core, consists of five main actions: fast attack, strong attack, parry, dodge, and roll. That's not a bad foundation to work with, but sadly it all boils down to button-mashing; every fight against almost every enemy basically amounts to spamming fast attacks and hitting the dodge button when an enemy is about to attack you, then going right back to spamming fast attacks. There are exceptions, of course, such as if an enemy has a shield, or if it's a weird monster with a unique special ability, but you spend the vast majority of the game fighting the same basic enemies over and over again, all of which fall victim to this simplistic, repetitive pattern of attack attack dodge, attack attack dodge.


Enemy AI is just so simple that you almost never have to deviate from that successful pattern, because most enemies behave exactly the same. It doesn't really matter whether you're fighting a wolf, a bear, a drowner, a nekker, a ghoul, or even a werewolf because they all just come straight at you and do some generic close-range one-or-two-hit attack. Against most enemies, you don't have to worry about what type of attack they're doing, or where they're aiming it -- you just dodge or parry when you see them telegraph an attack. Meanwhile, you don't have a lot of different attack options at your disposal; with only two types of sword attacks, the system is even further limited by the fact that there's hardly any reason to use strong attacks because they're so much slower and are therefore easier for enemies to interrupt, while fast attacks do roughly the same damage-per-second and are harder to interrupt because they keep enemies stun-locked longer.

The inclusion of potions, bombs, blade oils, magic signs, and a crossbow are supposed to add extra depth and variety to the system, but these aren't particularly exciting options, either. The crossbow is insanely under-powered and only ever worth using to knock airborne foes out of the air, or to one-shot underwater foes. Blade oils and potions are all passive stat-boosters that don't change the gameplay all that significantly, with the exception of the Blizzard potion that slows time around you, while you move at normal speed, for a time after each kill. Bombs can be thrown like a grenade to cause damage or special effects to an area, like freezing enemies in place, or preventing the use of magic, which can certainly be helpful against large groups of enemies or against tougher boss-like enemies, but I rarely felt the need to use them, even in hard mode.


Magic signs would seem like they're more fun, since there are five of them and each one gets an alternate casting mode (for essentially 10 different signs), but they, too, become shallow and repetitive after just a little while. As a pure mage, I discovered that signs made combat even simpler and more boring, because I spent basically the whole game using Aard to knock enemies down and kill them with a one-hit finisher, or spamming Igni as often as possible and dodging until my stamina regenerated enough to cast it again. Against some of the stronger enemies in the game, it was faster and more effective just to cast Quen and reflect their damage back at them instead of actually fighting -- I just stood there and let them kill themselves. As with the melee combat, every single fight was just a matter of repeating the same basic strategy, rinsing and repeating until everything was dead.


THE BAD: Gameplay doesn't evolve as you level-up

A cardinal sin for an RPG, it doesn't feel like your character evolves as you get stronger. You can invest in 80 different skills, most of which have 2-5 tiers of investment that unlock extra effects as you put more points into that individual skill, thereby allowing you a ton of freedom to customize Geralt into your own unique build. The vast majority of these skills, however, are passive modifiers that don't actually change your gameplay; deal 5% more damage when using fast attack, blade oils now have a 3% chance to poison enemies, extend the duration of Yrden sign traps by five seconds, etc. Sure, they all make you better and stronger at the game, and these skills have a tremendous cumulative effect as you rack up more and more of them, but few of them add new abilities to the game. For the most part, the skills simply make you more effective at what you're already capable of doing.


Once you gain access to the crossbow a few hours into the starting area, you'll have seen and experienced 90% of what the combat system has to offer. From that point on, the only variety comes from different bombs, potions, and blade oils you unlock, but again, with the exception of a few bombs and potions, these are mostly just passive stat boosters. Of the 80 skills, only 9-10 of them introduce new abilities; five of these are the alternate sign-casting modes, which can be unlocked relatively early, while the two new melee attacks, whirl and rend, are buried deep in the skill tree. The only skill that does anything new outside of combat, meanwhile, is the Axii skill "delusion," which lets you jedi mind trick people in dialogue, and can also be obtained pretty early in the game. As a pure mage, I unlocked all of the game-changing skills in that tree about a quarter of the way through the game and just passively watched my stats go up for the remaining 90 hours.


THE BAD: Progression is slow and unrewarding

The rate at which you play the game, exploring the world, completing quests, and so on, doesn't match the rate at which you level-up and gain skills. The Witcher 3 is an incredibly long game with a massive world to explore and a ton of content to complete -- people spend an average of 100 hours playing this game, but the leveling system feels like something from a 50-hour game that's been stretched to fit a 100-hour game. The game's scale is so big that progress feels incredibly slow; I sometimes played for 6-8 hours at a time before achieving a new level.

But just leveling up doesn't make a huge amount of difference in the game. For starters, each individual skill point, which you gain every time you level up or discover a Place of Power, is relatively insignificant, typically only providing a 3-5% boost in something. Secondly, those skill points are worthless unless you've unlocked enough skill slots to "equip" your desired skills. You typically unlock a new skill slot every two levels, but that rate slows down as you level up; from level 18 onward (roughly halfway towards end-game level), it takes four levels to unlock a new skill slot, meaning you go anywhere from 16 to 24 hours at a time accumulating skill points that you can't actually use, and thus not actually progressing.


Even then, once you've finally ground-out four levels to unlock a new skill slot, you may find yourself in a position where new upgrades don't even benefit you that much. After 80 hours, having still not been to Skellige or even completed chapter one, I found that I just had no reason to upgrade anymore. My sign intensity was already so off the charts that upgrading my signs any further would just give me diminished returns, and branching out into one of the other two skill trees (physical combat or alchemy) would result in less benefit from my mutagen slots (slots tethered to skill slots, which further enhance your stats if you equip skills from one tree in sets of three with a matching mutagen) until I could make another 10-14 levels to unlock more mutagen slots.

Finally, it's kind of disappointing that, of the 80 skills you can choose from, you can only ever equip 12 of them, meaning you hit a soft level cap at level 30 and can no longer equip any additional skills. You can still learn other skills, but you're always limited to only having 12 at a time active. Normally I like that kind of thing in games, because being limited to a smaller portion of what's available forces you to really think about what you're doing, weighing the pros and cons of different abilities and forming your own more-specialized build, but it feels almost criminal to spend so much time in this game building towards such few abilities. It makes me especially concerned going into the two DLC expansions, because that's potentially another 30-50 hours of slowly leveling up and not getting to feel any reward from any of it.


THE BAD: The world is too big, with too much content

I know I praised the game earlier for having so much quality content and for being such a good value for your money, but there are two sides to this coin, and in the case of TW3, having such a big world and having so much content in it can also be a bad thing. When you create a world this big, there's necessarily going to be dead space because you can't fill every single square foot with interesting content; the world is as big as it is to create a more realistic sense of scale and geography, but that comes with the consequence of spreading everything out and forcing players to spend more time traveling across it, and to spend more time than really should be necessary searching for the good and worthwhile content.


For every hour I spent doing a fun quest, or tracking a unique monster to its lair and having an epic showdown with it, or discovering some cool area off the beaten path with a hidden treasure chest, I spent half an hour wandering around the wilderness picking flowers and generally finding nothing of interest. A lot of times I'd discover a cool-looking place that simply had nothing going on in it. I'd sail to a uniquely-shaped island to find nothing at all. I'd find an unmarked village and there'd be nothing there. Even major landmarks on the map, like the Wolven Glade or the Devil's Pit, for instance, had all these interesting structures that looked like they should've been part of some quest, but ended up serving no purpose whatsoever.

On the flipside, I frequently ran into situations when I was being overwhelmed with quests and things of interest popping up from everywhere, all the time. In trying to get to a quest marker across unexplored terrain, I stumbled into a bandit camp and had to defend myself, and ended up picking up a quest to find a family sword. So I figure "I'll do this quest since I'm here," bring up the journal, and discover it's pointing me far away in the opposite direction. So I head that way and stumble into another quest because a cyclops ambushes me on the side of the road. So I investigate the area and find a note which sends me off in yet another direction to complete the quest, at which point I give up and ignore both of quests I just picked up, opting to go back to what I was doing originally. I ended up accidentally completing one of these quests some time later after I'd long forgotten about it, having stumbled into the area and talked to an NPC without having the quest active in my journal to know that he was part of a quest I already had.


The effect of having so much content in one game is that it dilutes the overall experience. With a game this size, some of the content is just going to be better than all the rest, and a lot of other stuff is going to end up being completely forgettable. Even though nearly every quest has some kind of decent setup and characterization relative to other games of this scale, a lot of these less-significant side-quests pale in comparison to what else is in the same game, or compared to smaller, more tightly-focused games. And yet, you never know what quests or points of interest are going to be outstanding or mundane until you complete them, so you basically have to do everything you come across if you want to experience all of the best that the game has to offer, which means wading through a lot of relatively boring content to get to the good stuff.


THE BAD: Exploration is unrewarding

As a result of the world just being too big for its own good, exploration doesn't feel all that rewarding. The thing that makes exploration satisfying in games is that feeling of discovery you get when you find something off the beaten path that others might possibly miss, thus making your experience potentially different from someone else playing the same game. These discoveries can be cool quests, special loot, or just fun easter eggs, but a lot of stuff that you find in TW3 ends up being either completely worthless or completely pointless.

All of the best gear in the game, for instance, is witcher gear that you craft yourself, and then upgrade over the rest of the game. I made my first set of witcher gear at level 11 and eventually realized that nothing I was ever going to find in my adventures would ever be better than what I already had, which somewhat hurt my motivation to go out exploring. Most of what you find, loot-wise, is just worthless junk that only exists to clog up your inventory as vendor trash, or blueprints for gear you won't be able to use for another 20-40 hours because the level requirements to use them, once crafted, are so much higher than when you find them.


Meanwhile, you get so little experience for killing monsters and discovering locations that you can spend several hours exploring and make virtually no progress towards leveling up. And with the map as big as it is, you spend a lot of time running all over it just looking for content, sometimes in vain. I'd often spend 5-10 minutes at a time running around an interesting-looking area finding nothing but useless plants and maybe a few random crates full of junk, or some random low-level enemies. So, you either put up with spending all this time aimlessly wandering around, or you cut to the chase and just follow the marked points of interest on your map that tell you where basically everything worth finding is before you've even been there -- useful for cutting down all the wasted time, but they make exploration feel like accounting, like you're just going around checking boxes off a list.


THE BAD: The world doesn't feel alive

Earlier I praised the game world for feeling real and showing signs of dynamic elements, but that doesn't mean it always feels alive. There are thousands of NPCs in this game, but 95% of them can't be interacted with in any kind of way whatsoever. I'd sometimes run across entire towns populated with dozens of people, not a single soul of whom could I talk to, at which point I sat around wondering "What is the point of this town being here?" There's a ton of content in this game that only exists to serve one, singular purpose, and is otherwise completely useless unless you pick up the one quest that will trigger it, including things like named characters you inexplicably can't talk to, or locked doors that you can't open, or in such cases as Fornhala and Kaer Muire, entire towns and cities without a single person to talk to or thing to do in them.


In keeping with the open-world nature of the game design, the world has to remain in a type of status quo at all times so that all content can be accessed at any time, which means, for the most part, the world sits around idly waiting for you to show up before anything happens. Everything just sits around in its prescribed state waiting for you to come along and put things in motion; the normal state of the world is almost completely disregarded when you start a quest, as it spawns and de-spawns everything as necessary. I can't criticize that point too much because it's almost unavoidable in this type of game, but I think the world would've benefited from some more random events to keep you on your toes and to introduce elements that require a timely response if you want to see how they play out.


THE BAD: Simple, repetitive quest mechanics

The quests in TW3 may have a lot of engaging storylines or characters in them, but the actual mechanics for solving quests tend to be pretty shallow and repetitive. A strong majority of quests follow a simple formula of "talk to the quest-giver, go to the location, investigate using your witcher senses, fight something, and return to the quest-giver." Other quests consist of a lot of straightforward dialogue where you just walk to the objective, watch long cutscenes, cycle through all dialogue options, watch more cutscenes, walk to the next location, and repeat. Occasionally, they'll throw some kind of utterly trivial, pointless, unrelated fight at you just to give you something to do between walking to your next objective.


Witcher senses, in particular, feel like a lot of missed potential. On the one hand, it's cool that you can press a button to hone in on things a witcher's heightened senses would pick up on, that we as mere ordinary humans would never notice, like animal tracks on the ground or scent trails, but this takes a lot of self-satisfaction out of the quests because you're not actually solving the quest yourself -- you're just pressing a button to highlight the solution and following a dotted-line to its conclusion. And unfortunately, witcher senses are a mandatory part of the game, they're not just there as a crutch for casual gamers who don't want to put in the work figuring things out for themselves; you have to use witcher senses to solve these things because there's literally no other information to go off of. Without them, you'd just be bumbling around aimlessly, hoping to stumble into solutions randomly.

There's a major quest in Novigrad, for instance, in which a main character is nearly murdered by a serial killer, and you're sent into detective mode to find out who's behind the killings. This is a quest ripe for Sherlock Holmes-esque deductive reasoning, in which the player has to assemble the evidence in his own mind and come to his own conclusions about how it all might relate to different suspects who each have their own alibis and possible motives, like you do in TW1 when you're trying to figure out who's working with Salamandra. Instead, you simply use your witcher senses, follow the trails, exhaust all the dialogue options, and let yourself be dragged by the nose to the obvious culprit. How straightforward and mundane.


THE BAD: Decisions often feel trivial and unimportant

While it's true that you can make a lot of important decisions that can affect the outcomes of major characters and even lead you to one of three different endings, most of the decisions you make in TW3 have little effect on anything, either because the outcomes are utterly inconsequential and only exist for role-playing purposes (which is totally fine, I suppose -- it's better than having no choice at all) or because you actually, in fact, have no choice at all and are forced to do exactly what the game intended all along, regardless of the fact that you were given an apparent "choice."


At one point in the main story, I thought I had a chance to effect a major branch in the main quest line, to pursue a hint of Ciri's whereabouts by pursuing either Dandelion or Triss and Yennefer. I decided to go with Triss and Yennefer, because that seemed like the more logical guess -- nowhere had I heard, previously, that Dandelion even knew Ciri, and I knew that Triss was in the city and that Yennefer had a history with Ciri -- only for the game to say "That was the wrong answer, you're gonna go after Dandelion for help."

Meanwhile, a lot of your dialogue options are considered plain-out wrong, according to the script. In one major conversation after finding Ciri, I said I didn't want to get the Lodge of Sorceresses involved because I didn't trust them and was told "Too bad, we're doing it." Ciri then protested, saying that she should have some say in things and that she can take care of herself, so I said "You're right," and was promptly told "No, she needs to be kept completely out of danger." She got angry and ran off, so I said "I'll go after her," and was then told "No, she needs to work this out on her own." This was three things, all in a row, where the game slapped my wrist and said "no you're wrong, this is how this cutscene is going to play out," and I was left to wonder why I was even given a choice if nothing I said was actually going to matter.


THE BAD: A lot of restrictive gameplay

Like with the dialogue options, there are a ton of instances in the ordinary gameplay when the game forces you to play a certain way, either by arbitrarily restricting your actions or by preventing you from doing anything else. Every now and then you run into situations where the game just doesn't let you run, and you have to walk to your next destination, or you end up in places where you can't jump, draw your weapon, or cast signs. Particularly infuriating is how combat is a completely different gameplay mode from non-combat; while in combat you can't jump or interact with anything, which often led to me getting stuck in places because I couldn't jump or climb a ladder to get to the enemy so I could kill it and get out of combat mode.


I remember one time when I walked into an NPC's house and found it being ransacked by bandits who then attacked me, and the game forced me into a fist-fighting mini-game. When I tried to draw my swords, or cast signs on them, that familiar message popped on screen reading "You can't do that here." And I thought, "Why not? They're bandits, I don't want to give them a fair fight or take it easy on them." It's annoying when any game does this, but I think it's even worse in an open-world RPG, the whole point of which is having the freedom to play the game how you want, which is not always the case in TW3.


THE BAD: The main story bogs down like crazy

The game begins with a pretty clear and concise objective: find Ciri. Finding her is not that simple, however, as you have to go to every single region of the Continent and speak to a variety of people in each location, usually doing some obligatory sub-quest for each and every person you find just so they'll point you in the next direction. This premise is fine for a little while, especially while you're dealing with the Bloody Baron's questlines, which prove to be some of the best in the entire game, but it really bogs down when you get to the big city in Novigrad.


So you're supposed to be looking for Ciri -- someone in Velen tells you she went to Novigrad, so you go to Novigrad and turn the city upside down looking for her. Someone tells you that Dandelion might know where she is, so you look for Dandelion and find out he's gone missing. That initiates a sub-quest to find Dandelion, which takes you to a guy who might know where Dandelion is, which initiates a sub-quest to help him to find someone else before he'll tell you where Dandelion is. Once you find out where Dandelion is, you need someone else to help you get there, which involves another sub-quest to find that person.

In 100 hours of searching for Ciri, I'd searched for Yennefer, searched for Keira Metz, searched for the Baron's wife, searched for the Baron's daughter, searched for Dandelion, searched for Whoreson Jr, searched for Triss, searched for Dudu, searched for Hjalmar, and searched for Cerys, and still hadn't found Ciri. Throughout all of that, it gets really hard to remember that everything you're doing is so that you can, eventually, find Ciri, because all of those arbitrary sub-quests put you so far off-track from your original goal that you almost forget about her.


THE UGLY: Meandering pace

The whole point of finding Ciri is that the world is at risk of an apocalyptic event should the Wild Hunt ever catch up with her, and she's also Geralt's adopted daughter whom he cares deeply about and doesn't want to come to any harm. Seems like a big deal, and yet the game (and the rest of the world and all of its inhabitants) don't really care if you find her or not. Geralt, meanwhile, is content to lie around brothels and pursue a life becoming world champion of a collectible card game instead of looking for his daughter. The main story is at odds with the core gameplay design, with the meandering pace of the open-world design taking a lot of narrative thrust out of the main story and basically every other quest. It's good that one have the freedom to choose where to go and what to do, but I feel like it detracts from the overall experience when there's always something new popping up to interrupt your progress and distract you from what you were doing, because you can't give the proper amount of focus and attention to everything all the time.



THE UGLY: Movement controls feel weird

One of the hardest things to get used to, besides the general rhythm and technique of combat, is simply moving Geralt around. Geralt has a significant weight to his movements, with momentum affecting how he starts moving, comes to a stop, and even changes direction. This has the benefit of making you feel more realistically rooted to the game world, but it also makes simple tasks like walking through doors or turning around more of a nuisance than they should be, since it takes so much effort to get Geralt moving to make minor corrections to your positioning, and Geralt's momentum will frequently make him stop short of what you expected, or push him further than you intended to -- which, on numerous occasions, led to me falling off a ledge and dying on impact. You can turn this movement scheme off and enable an alternative system, but then Geralt stops feeling like a real person and just floats around like a video game character. In the end, I just got used to the default movement scheme, but it still caused me some hassle every now and then.


THE UGLY: Clunky combat controls

Input-queuing is a system that lets you press a button in the middle of an action and have that second action play out immediately after the first action has finished, used in a lot of fighting games to help process a lot of fast inputs fluidly. The Witcher 3 doesn't seem to do this at all, meaning if you want to cast a sign or swing your sword after coming out of a dodge, you have to wait for the animation to finish before pressing the button, else the input won't register and you'll find yourself standing there awkwardly for a moment before realizing Geralt's not actually doing what you told him to do. This matter is made many times worse by the inconsistent combat animations; in an effort to make everything flashy-looking, Geralt will randomly launch into different kinds of attack animations of slightly different lengths, thereby making it much harder to anticipate your next button press because you never know what Geralt's going to do.



THE UGLY: Witchers aint got time for these trivial tasks

Witchers are not altruistic paladins crusading for the good of all humanity, protecting the down-trodden and the oppressed while fighting for social justice. They're monster-hunters for hire. They stay out of politics, mind their own business, and don't intervene unless there's significant pay involved. And yet, you basically have to be an altruistic paladin if you want to experience as much game content as possible, or else you'll end up just skipping a lot of quests and events altogether, missing their stories, experience points, and rewards. Geralt shouldn't have the time (or the interest) to do menial chores for people, and yet the bulk of quests in the game consist of doing simple favors for random people that any non-witcher could be doing. Why, for instance, is Geralt of Rivia, the White Wolf, the Butcher of Blaviken, stopping by the side of the road to help someone fix shrines, or looking for someone's stolen horse? If you were to play as a true witcher and only do the monster-hunting contracts, main story, and favors for personal friends, you'd probably end up skipping over half of what the game has to offer.



THE UGLY: No penalty for stealing from people's homes

The Witcher 3: Wild Hunt, also known as The Witcher 3: Petty Theft Simulator, is a game in which you can steal everything that isn't nailed down, from every peasant and noble citizen's home, right in front of their eyes, with no repercussions whatsoever. This is part of the reason the world doesn't always feel alive, because no one makes any reaction to you barging into their homes and taking everything off their shelves. The only time it matters is if you steal within sight of the city guard, but that situation almost never comes into play because the city guard isn't stationed inside people's homes, and a lot of containers that are within sight of guards aren't marked as personal property, so the game doesn't consider it stealing when you loot their contents. It's not a game-breaking issue, but it does break my suspension of disbelief that no one cares about their personal property.


THE UGLY: Too much useless junk cluttering inventory

You loot a ton of stuff in this game, most of which is completely pointless junk like forks, plates, broken rakes, or melted candles, to name just a few, or components like plants, leather, minerals, and monster parts used in alchemy and crafting. Everything in the game technically has a use; junk can be sold to shopkeepers to increase your income, or can be dismantled to form crafting components, which are themselves used to create new gear and other, more advanced crafting components. The problem, here, is that you're simply bombarded with an excessive, overwhelming amount of stuff, most of which you'll never actually use, and then it just sits around cluttering your inventory. I actually reached a point in the game when I had so many crafting and alchemy items that the game would lag out for a few seconds every time I opened that tab of my inventory screen.



THE UGLY: Nothing to spend money on

Since you either find or craft all of the good stuff you'd ever use in the game, money has essentially no value and no purpose. The only things worth spending money on are recipes for potions, bombs, and blade oils (but these become fewer and fewer as you play the game), rare herbs that you can't find in the wild or that simply don't exist elsewhere, strong alcohol for creating more advanced alchemical substances and potions, and repairs for your weapons and armor (which becomes less of a necessity as you accumulate more and more repair kits). These purchases make up only a tiny fraction of your total income. You end up with tens of thousands of coins and nothing to spend them on. which contributes to the overall feeling of not progressing and not getting stronger that permeates the entire game, because gold is treated like a reward for quests and exploration but in reality it does you no good.


THE UGLY: Quest rewards scale down as you level up

Point of fact: you are going to become over-leveled in this game, even more so if you're a diligent explorer and completionist who does everything he can before moving on to another area. When this inevitably happens, quests that are deemed too low-level for you start giving less experience and less reward to a point when they eventually stop giving you rewards altogether. The intent, I suppose, is to slow your leveling so you don't out-level everything in sight, but that still happens at an alarmingly fast rate, even with this down-scaling, which yet again contributes to the overall feeling of slow progression. After a while of clearing these greyed-out, low-level quests from my journal, it started to feel like a chore -- a waste of time.



THE UGLY: Limited overlap between quests

The bulk of quests in TW3 are completely stand-alone and have no relation to any other quest, character, or location, and in a lot of cases where quests might appear to overlap, they're really just running in parallel with one another -- usually nothing that happens within a quest will affect anything outside of their own specific quest-line. In that regard, it doesn't really matter how you choose to solve quests because the impact will almost never carry over to anything else, except that in future plays you'd be able to choose something different and maybe see something new. This is another side-effect of an open-world game striving to be completely open and accessible, so that any bit of content can be completed at any time in the game, regardless of what else you've already done, or in other cases, not done.


THE UGLY: Long, frequent cutscenes hold players hostage

I encountered a lot of instances when the game forced me to keep playing much longer than I intended because cutscenes, dialogue, and story sequences would seize all control from me and force me to sit through everything before putting me back in control so I could save and exit the game. On one occasion, I wanted to just turn in a quest and go to sleep, but upon doing so I ended up having to sit through 20 minutes of cutscenes, and then got dropped into a five-minute gameplay segment which didn't feel right to interrupt by saving and quitting because it would've ruined the narrative pacing to delay the story's continuation by 20 hours, and then had to watch another 5-10 minutes of cutscenes before it was all finally over. On a night when I had to be up early the next morning, the game unexpectedly forced me to stay up an extra 30 minutes later than I wanted.


THE UGLY: The Battle of Kaer Morhen is a little disappointing

The Battle of Kaer Morhen is the main climax that the game spends up to 100 hours building towards, the grand culmination of your quest to find Ciri and fight off the Wild Hunt. You go back to everyone you've met over the course of the game cashing in favors so that they'll come help you, assembling a Super Team of badass allies. When you're ready to start preparing for the fight, you meet everyone one-by-one as you work your way from the entrance of Kaer Morhen up to the inner keep, and get to see what everyone's planning and how each individual will offer unique assistance. You then get to make a few decisions about what to do (brew some potions or lay traps around the castle's exterior, reinforce the walls or clear the way to the armory). But then you don't actually get to do any of the prep work yourself, a lot of stuff seems to have little to no effect on the actual battle, and the entire fight is broken into a bunch of tiny, self-contained sections separated by loading screens, cutscenes, and really specific objectives that force you to focus on one little thing at a time, one after another.


As with the dialogue and storyboarding of the main quest-line, it felt to me like the Battle of Kaer Morhen was designed to play out a very specific way, with only a couple variables changing the outcome (or the path to the outcome) in any significant way. It was supposed to be this grand, epic castle siege as you try to fight off hordes and waves of Wild Hunt soldiers, but the scale felt tiny and claustrophobic to me because you're always in these tiny, instanced scenarios: "Go here and kill that, go there and close that portal, go there and flip the lever," and so on, with no concern whatsoever for any greater, over-arching goal, because the instanced scenarios made it clear nothing was ever going to happen off-screen, and you never had to worry about possibly failing. I would've much rather preferred if the Battle of Kaer Morhen had been just one, big fight with you having to defend multiple angles of entry, perhaps with status meters indicating when a side was getting overrun, or when a wall was about to collapse, thus forcing you to react to these different situations and making your own choices, instead of simply following a linear series of events that are totally scripted beyond your control.


THE UGLY: Playing as Ciri

Occasionally throughout the main story you get to play flashbacks as Ciri, to see from her perspective what she went through at each step of her journey, while Geralt is always two or three steps behind her. Some people might like getting to play as Ciri, but I always found it jarring; you spend 100+ hours as Geralt building an association with that character and tailoring his skills and equipment to your own desires, and then suddenly the game says "Ok, now you're a completely different person, and none of the stuff you've been doing to improve your character applies here." It's kind of cool that you get to feel how Ciri gets stronger over the course of the game through actual hands-on experience, but I still found it annoying every time I switched to her, and it was kind of boring playing as her in the second half of the story when she's one-shotting everything with lightning-quick ninja moves that take no effort on your part to pull off.



THE UGLY: Gwent is pay-to-win

Gwent is a card game that CD Projekt designed and put into TW3 to replace the dice poker mini-game. It now exists as its own stand-alone game, and you could even, for a time, buy physical decks to play in real life. It's a fun little game that reminds me a lot of Blue Moon Legends, an actual card game by Reiner Knizia that I own and rather enjoy, which made me really intrigued once I realized that the card game in TW3 is actually a good, interesting game system, and not just some gimicky mini-game. That said, as it exists in TW3, Gwent is pay-to-win, which I find absolutely abhorrent.

In a nutshell, Gwent works by playing cards from your hand, which you draw from your pre-built deck, with the ultimate goal of having a higher total value of cards in play than your opponent at the end of a round. The game lasts up to three rounds, with the winner being whomever wins two of the three rounds. So, the crux of the gameplay is baiting your opponent to play cards a certain way so that you can, essentially, spring a trap on him, while also making sure that you're pacing yourself for all three rounds, possibly forfeiting a battle so that you can win the war.


The problem I have with Gwent, as it's implemented in the game, is that there are relatively few restrictions on how you can build your deck, and with different cards simply being more powerful than others, a deck that's loaded with higher-value cards will basically always win against a weaker deck. They start you out with a crappy beginner deck, and if you want to make your deck stronger you have to spend in-game currency buying better cards, or else win better cards by beating other players, which is kind of a catch-22 because you often need better cards in your deck to beat certain players in order to win better cards. I had fun playing a few matches early on, but once I realized that individual decks can be so highly imbalanced and that you have to spend a lot of money buying better cards, I swore it off and never touched it again.


IN CONCLUSION

That was a lot of criticism, both in "the bad" and "the ugly" sections, and perhaps "the good" section didn't do the game enough justice, so let me be clear at the top of my conclusion by saying that I liked The Witcher 3: Wild Hunt. It has a lot of good things going for it, and it's easily one of the best open-world RPGs ever made, but that almost says more about the state of open-world games than it does about the game itself. Open-world games tend to have a lot of inherent problems, usually to do with pacing, balance, and depth of mechanics, and TW3 suffers from nearly all of them, albeit not as badly as some other games. The sheer size and length of the game, meanwhile, make all of its weaker elements stand out even more as the game drags on and begins to outstay its welcome.

I firmly believe that TW3 could've been a leaner, tighter, and more satisfying game if CD Projekt had trimmed some more of the fat and given us a somewhat smaller but more tightly-focused game. The Witcher 3 didn't need to be as big as it is, and I feel like it suffers for it. Ultimately, I like some other open-world games better, such as Gothic, Fallout, STALKER, and Dragon's Dogma to name a few, but none of those games come close to matching the epic scale or production value of TW3. It's kind of a shame that most of the praise I can give for TW3 comes with a qualifier ("it's exceptionally good for an open-world RPG of this size," or "it's better than that other major open-world game from 2011") because its characters, stories, and world are so entertaining and engaging. Sadly, its gameplay doesn't always live up to rest of its high aspirations, and it leaves me feeling a little empty when I think about how much better it could have been.

The Witcher 3: Hearts of Stone - Review

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Hearts of Stone -- the first DLC pack for The Witcher 3 -- adds about 15-20 hours of new content to the game, extending the northeastern region of the map, near Oxenfurt, with new points of interest, side-quests, and treasure hunts, in addition to other expansion essentials like all-new enemies, new equipment sets, a new system for crafting and buying unique runes and glyphs, and a main storyline that goes toe-to-toe with and even exceeds the best quests in the base game. Hearts of Stone is, at its heart, a fairly typical DLC expansion that simply takes the familiar formula of the base game and adds more content to it, but it improves upon the experience by directly addressing some of the core issues of the base game, such as combat, economy, and pacing. The mechanical improvements are reason enough to give Hearts of Stone a solid recommendation, but the main quest-line and all of its great characters, stories, and gameplay sequences push it well above the base game and make it one of the best $10 DLC packs I've ever played.

In my review of the base game, I criticized the combat system for feeling shallow and boring because it mostly amounted to repetitive, simplistic button-mashing from beginning to end, against enemies that behaved more or less alike. Hearts of Stone fixes that issue by introducing several new types of enemies with unique AI and attack patterns, all of which require different tactics to take down as well as more attention to things like positioning and timing. Wild boars run circles around you and try to trample you from odd angles, and their lunging double-attacks are designed to catch you in the middle of a dodge if you don't time it right, or don't dodge in the right direction, while their "drive-by" tactics leave you very small windows of time in which to attack them. Arachnomorphs use group tactics, scattering in all directions to avoid AOE attacks and to keep you surrounded, only rushing in to attack when they trap you in their webs or when you engage one of them. Ofieri warriors block, dodge, and counter attacks better than any human enemies from the base game, meaning you can't just spam attacks on them -- you have to bait them into attacking and find an opening in their attack patterns.


Boss battles have been similarly overhauled so that each one is more challenging and requires its own special strategy, while also incorporating the environment into their fights for added uniqueness. The first boss can rain cluster bombs on you that leave lingering toxic clouds on the ground, poisoning you if you move through them, and his really fast beam-style ranged attack will force you to keep moving and dodging through the poison clouds. If you get in close, he'll do a variety of close-ranged attacks, one of which is an AOE ground pound. Most of his attacks also cause stagger and knock-down. Another boss uses a melee weapon with a lot of unblockable melee attacks and ranged AOE magic attacks, and heals himself 10% of his health bar every time he hits you. At certain points he spawns a bunch of mostly harmless enemies so that he can quickly heal back up to full health by killing them, unless you can kill them first. This fight can be literally impossible if you're not smart and careful. In each case, the fight is about positioning yourself to avoid attacks, navigating the battlefield, and figuring out when to attack and when not to attack, and they feel way more satisfying than anything in the base game.

Quests also tend to involve a little bit more player input than what was present in the base game. At one point you pick up a missing person quest and use your witcher senses to follow the trail to a pair of suspects. They act a little suspicious, but you find no incriminating evidence; normally at that point a quest entry would pop up telling you to keep searching the area, but Hearts of Stone doesn't do that. It expects you to figure out for yourself that their story doesn't quite add up and keep snooping around, else you return to the quest-giver and "complete" the quest without ever finding the missing person. In another quest you have to recreate images by placing the correct missing pieces in the correct locations; you have to look at the scene and use your own judgment to fill in the blanks of what should be where. Although it's technically possible to just use process elimination and try every option until you get the right one, it's satisfying to use your own brain and come up with the correct solution on the first try. Later on you have to solve a riddle by exploring a small map; there are no quest markers or witcher sense trail telling you exactly where to go, and it's entirely possible to fail and have to start over.


Another thing I criticized about the base game is that, after a while, you simply ran out of things to spend money on, thereby making money (often treated as a reward) effectively worthless. Hearts of Stone fixes that by giving you an outlet to spend your thousands of coins, in the form of the Ofieri Runewright. By donating 5,000 coins to the Runewright, he can create special runes and glyphs not found in the base game, like weapon runes that extend the range of whirl and rend, or make killing blows regenerate stamina, or armor glyphs that deflect arrows, or cast a free quen sign at the start of every combat. You unlock better runes and glyphs by donating another 10k, and later 15k, for a total of 30k. While it's nice to finally have this avenue to spend your hard-earned dosh, the costs and benefits don't necessarily feel worth it, considering that each of these special runes and glyphs takes up all three slots on your equipment. Is it worth, for instance, giving up +15% damage to be able to spend three adrenaline to regenerate vitality and stamina, or giving up +30% igni intensity to make it cast in 360-degrees and not cause burning?

These upgrades tend to feel less like actual upgrades, and more like gimmicky side-grades. Only a few of them could actually be considered "better" than the standard runes and glyphs, but it is nice that you can now obtain regular armor glyphs that do stuff other than increase your sign intensity, since my combat/alchemy build gained little benefit from the base game glyphs, since I used signs so little. There are some new weapons and armor sets to be found, as well, but these too are something of a mixed bag, usually providing some balanced benefit and trade-off which may or not be of any use to you depending on your build. The New Moon armor might be tempting for a pure melee fighter, and the Ornate Robes might be good for an igni-spammer, but I ultimately preferred the more balanced stats of my mastercrafted Wolven set. You get enough experience from the extra quests to level-up beyond the restrictions of the base game, but since you don't gain extra skill slots along the way, it doesn't do you much good. It's kind of disappointing, therefore, that you can play the entire 20-hour expansion and experience no progression whatsoever.


The other major issue I had with the base game, which the expansion addresses, is that the pacing of both the main story and various side-quests suffered by virtue of the world being so big, with so much to do, that you often got pulled away from what you were doing to go focus on something else. Hearts of Stone takes place on a much smaller scale, dealing with only a handful of characters in a few locations in and around Oxenfurt. There's enough new terrain with new things to explore and side-quests to complete to give you that basic satisfaction of playing an open-world game, with the freedom to go where you want and do what you want, but Hearts of Stone is much more tightly-focused around its main quest-line so that the side content complements it, rather than distracts from it. And the main story, meanwhile, doesn't bog itself down by making you trek to every corner of the world and fulfill a thousand favors for a thousand different people before finally getting over the first hurdle; it cuts right to the chase and builds steadily over its 10 hour play time towards a satisfying conclusion with an interesting hook, strong character development, and an intriguing mystery.

Hearts of Stone begins by picking up a witcher contract from a notice board to kill a monster that's been lurking in the Oxenfurt sewers, which it turns out is actually a bit of red herring (a supremely interesting one, with an amusing twist) for the main story. The actual story centers around a man named Olgierd von Everec, leader of a group of bandit mercenaries all descended from Redanian nobility, who made a deal with the devil to reclaim his family's fortune, win back the love of his life, and live like there's no tomorrow. Per the deal, the devil would only get Olgierd's soul after three more of Olgierd's wishes are fulfilled by a third-party, and when they both stand willingly on the moon. The devil interprets "live like there's no tomorrow" to mean immortality and gives Olgierd a heart of stone, which makes him immortal and, as a side-effect, slowly saps him of his passion and emotion. After the devil intervenes to save your life, following the conclusion of the monster contract in the sewer, he sends you to repay your debt by fulfilling Olgierd's remaining three wishes, which is how you spend the bulk of your time in the main story.


The somewhat generic but spoiler-free review of the main story is that Hearts of Stone has good tension, an effective villain, interesting characters, engaging pacing, and quests that are tonally distinct from what's on offer in the base game. I'll get into the specific details below, so for those of you who want to avoid spoilers, here's my conclusion: Hearts of Stone doesn't really feel like an expansion, but more like a continuation of the base game; it's basically more of the same, but with better quality, and an interesting new story arc set within the confines of the original game. There's nothing all that grand, epic, or exciting about it -- no new continents to explore, no new skill slots or upgrades for high-level characters, no fancy player house -- but it's just such a solid, well-rounded experience that I feel is among the best that The Witcher 3 has to offer. As a $10 DLC pack with 15-20 hours of content and its own self-contained story-arc, Hearts of Stone is a better game experience and a better overall value than a lot of $60 AAA games, so much so that it's almost worth it to spend $50 on the Game of the Year edition of The Witcher 3 for the sole purpose of playing Hearts of Stone, which I should mention can be played as part of the main game or as a separate adventure accessed from the main menu.

From here on out, I'll be getting into heavy spoiler territory in regards to some of the characters, the main story, and the main quests, so you should only continue reading beyond this point if you've already played Hearts of Stone, or if you just don't care about spoilers. You've been warned.

Let's start with Gaunter O'Dimm. He serves as kind of a villain for the DLC, the central agent who drives the conflict and narrative forward, but he doesn't function like a typical video game villain or antagonist. The central plot doesn't revolve around stopping him, and although you can choose to "fight" him at the end, doing so is completely optional. He's more of a third-party, and you're simply wrapped up in his mysterious, possibly nefarious machinations. And yet he works so much better as a villain than the Wild Hunt ever did in the base game because he has a much more meaningful and intimidating presence. Whereas the Wild Hunt was this theoretical threat that you almost never got to see or interact with, Gaunter O'Dimm shows up frequently throughout the main story and teases you with hints of how powerful he really is and how dangerous it would be to cross him. The game doesn't explicitly tell you who he is or that you should be afraid of him, however -- it implies everything through subtle hints that internalize the threat in your mind, slowly building him up over the course of the game and leaving him an intriguing mystery as you try to figure out just who he is and what his motives are.


It begins with staging and camera angles; most of the time, shots are framed so that he's above you with the camera looking up at him, which ominously implies dominance and power. His powers appear in limited fashion to begin with, simply appearing and disappearing at will and summoning a great storm to wreck the ship on which you're being held prisoner (and thus saving you from execution), but subtle lines of dialogue made by other characters after he exits a scene cue you into his identity ("they heave like devils,""what the devil?"). While wandering about, you sometimes encounter groups of children happily singing a nursery rhyme whose lyrics seem to mirror that of O'Dimm offering deals and granting people their wishes, with the final stanza sinisterly suggesting, after he's come to collect his dues, that "he'll snare you in bonds, eyes glowin' a'fire, to gore and torment you till the stars expire." After saving your life, he arranges for you to meet him at a crossroads at midnight, where you enter into agreement to repay your debt.

Gaunter O'Dimm is essentially this world's version of the devil, and the central plot is about dealing with the devil and being careful what you wish for. It's a completely familiar tale, but its execution in Hearts of Stone is fresh and interesting, largely because of the acting and portrayal of O'Dimm and Olgierd, but also because the three main quests offer unique experiences tonally distinct from the likes of what you encounter in the base game, or other games in general, in some cases. In your efforts to fulfill Olgierd's three wishes, you end up going on a heist mission to rob a locked and booby-trapped vault of its contents, attending a wedding reception while possessed by the ghost of a debaucherous hooligan, and reliving the memories of a deceased woman by entering a world held within her paintings. Besides that, you also get to do battle with a giant fairy-tale toad prince, romance Shani (who's back from The Witcher 1), and go to hell to wage wits with the devil himself.


I particularly enjoyed getting to see Shani again, considering my fondness and appreciation for The Witcher 1, and she played a pretty big role in that game, both as a romance option and in the main story with Alvin. I don't think they handled her very well in Hearts of Stone, however. For anyone who's not played the first game or read the books, I can see her romance feeling incredibly rushed and/or a little awkward, because so much of it is based on a past relationship you may have never actually seen or been a part of. If you don't already feel that connection with her when you first meet her in the DLC, then she's a stranger you're basically forced to romance, because all the dialogue options imply feelings Geralt has (or had) for her, even if you try to say otherwise, with no clear or direct way to say that you're just not interested, or that you're already committed to someone else if you romanced Yen or Triss and want to stay faithful to them. Meanwhile, if you're a big fan of Shani and were looking forward to romancing her (again), then you may find yourself disappointed that the game treats her romance as nothing more than a one-night fling, no matter what.

The wedding reception, where you spend the bulk of your time with Shani, is great because we get to see Geralt break out from his usual stoicism to enjoy life as a party animal, albeit as the physical embodiment of a ghost possessing him. Vlodimir, the ghost, is a delight to control; his revelry and whimsical attitude serve as an amusing foil for Geralt, particularly whenever he steps out of Geralt's body to engage in one-on-one conversation. Much like attending the masquerade ball with Triss, the wedding gives you a chance to do something other than be a rough n' tough witcher killing monsters and solving other people's problems, except this time, it gives you things to do besides just walking around listening to people. You can drink with assorted people, play gwent, wrangle pigs, (attempt to) seduce wedding guests, get in a drunken brawl, dance to live music, find the missing fire-breather and lost dog, and go diving for Shani's boot. None of the actual gameplay involved in any of this is all that sophisticated, but it's just such a pleasant change of pace, and it's the most fun I've ever had being at a wedding in a video game.


The heist, unfortunately, isn't as much fun. It plays out like a typical heist movie: assembling a crew, making a plan, setting up the preparations, and improvising when things go wrong. But much like the battle of Kaer Morhen in the base game, once you actually get into it, the whole thing is so heavily scripted with cutscenes and isolated scenarios centered around highly specific objectives, that I didn't feel like I was actually taking part in the heist; I was merely along for the ride, there to pick dialogue options and fight a handful of guards. You'd think, for instance, that there would be tense and exciting gameplay in planning a route through the city to dodge guard patrols and finding a way to break into the manor, using your witcher senses to detect guards and traps, but this entire infiltration process happens entirely in a cutscene. The hostage negotiation scene is fairly tense, I guess, with you having to pick the right dialogue options under a time limit to keep the guards at bay, and there's a pretty big decision at the end about whether to turn against your employer, but I didn't really want to be there in the first place so the major decisions at the end felt mostly inconsequential to me.


Another bit of criticism I can lay against Hearts of Stone is that it deliberately makes both you and Geralt reluctant participants in the story. O'Dimm's a mysterious, all-powerful dude with some kind of hidden agenda whom I just didn't trust, and yet I had no choice but to agree to his terms; Geralt even says as much. Olgierd's another sketchy dude with a troubled history (and the blessing of immortality to boot) with whom I just didn't want to get involved, especially when one of his first quests involves major criminal activity. As a result, it took me a little while to become interested in the story, to reach that point when I wanted to push forward in the main quest-line to see what would happen next. Even before getting to the stuff with O'Dimm and Olgierd, the DLC begins like any typical monster contract, with no apparent reason to care about the quest-giver, Olgierd, and the prospect of exploring yet another video game sewer didn't really excite me. It wasn't until I was over halfway through the main quest-line, doing Olgierd's third and final quest, that I really started to care about what was going on.

Make no mistake, though -- that's not to say the first half of the DLC is bad or uninteresting. The quests themselves are engaging (except for the heist which I just generally don't care much for) and the characters are particularly riveting, but the early goings merely set down the edges of a puzzle that you're slowly building over the course of the main story -- you get hints of what's going on here and there, but you don't have enough pieces of the puzzle until the second half, and so the picture doesn't really start to reveal itself until you get into Olgierd's third and final quest.


Whereas Olgierd's first two quests have the distinct tones of romantic-comedy and crime-thriller, his third quest is that of surreal-horror as you investigate a haunted mansion. Your goal, there, is to retrieve a memento he left his wife when they separated years ago. You patrol the grounds encountering ghosts and battling demonic beings that Olgierd created to maintain the mansion, and eventually discover that his wife, Iris, died of heartbreak a long time ago. Through some strange magic, you end up going into her paintings where her soul has basically been trapped, recreating scenes from her memories and battling ghostly monsters that continue to haunt her after death. You learn about her history with Olgierd, how his deal with O'Dimm (unbeknownst to her) steadily changed him and ruined their lives as his passion slowly left him. It's a touching, tragic sequence filled with utterly unique visuals and some of the best boss fights from the entire game, and had me completely engrossed from beginning to end.


Having fulfilled all of Olgierd's wishes -- three things meant to be impossible, so that he'd never have to complete his contract with O'Dimm -- the final step is to get the two to meet on the moon, which you accomplish by meeting at a temple with the crescent moon carved into its floor. O'Dimm comes to collect Olgierd's soul, who realizes he's been tricked and out-witted by the devil; at that point, you have the option to intervene and try to save Olgierd by besting O'Dimm in a game of riddles, or stay out of it and consider your debt to O'Dimm repaid. And let me tell you, that was probably the toughest timed decision I had to make in 154 hours of playing TW3. On the one hand, I'd grown to sympathize with Olgierd, who'd been manipulated by the devil and tricked into something he didn't want, and what I'd learned about O'Dimm (basically, that he's pure evil) made me feel like I should stop this evil from happening. On the other hand, perhaps Olgierd got what he deserved, and should've known what to expect when dealing with the devil, and perhaps I shouldn't risk my soul trying to save someone I just met from eternal damnation. In the end, I resigned myself to do nothing, reasoning to myself that it was best not to make an enemy of possibly the most powerful being in existence, and turned down all offers of reward, wanting to ensure I had no more possible ties to O'Dimm.

He thanked me and walked off-screen, whistling and playfully tossing Olgierd's skull in the air as the screen cut to black to roll the credits.

It was anticlimactic to be sure, but poignant nonetheless. And strangely satisfying. It felt right to me, appropriate. That ending resonated for me like few other games ever have. After decades of playing video games of this sort that come down to defeating a Final Boss, it was so refreshing to be able to say "you know what, I'm not gonna fight this guy" and have an ending that still makes sense and feels complete, with the story properly concluded. But after a little while, curiosity got the better of me and I started to wonder what would have happened if I'd intervened.


If you confront O'Dimm, you're treated to a rather unique "boss fight" in which you're whisked away to a hellish landscape and challenged to solve a riddle. CD Projekt could have gone the old-fashioned route and have the riddle play out entirely through dialogue, with you picking answers from a list of options, but they did something original by making you solve it through actual gameplay. The scenario gives you a limited amount of time to find the solution in the environment, which involves running around examining things, fighting off demonic apparitions, and trying not to get tricked by distractions (like a vision of Shani dangling off the edge of a cliff yelling for help). Eventually you discover a mirror at the end of a long hallway, and O'Dimm collapses the floor underneath you, leading you down a false trail trying to chase down mirrors before he shatters them. In the end, you have to realize it's not the mirror itself, but the reflection, and so you have to find a way to create a reflection in the environment that O'Dimm can't destroy, which is cleverly foreshadowed by two demons in the painted world who tell you to "seek salvation in glass that can't be broken." There's no dumb waypoint marker or witcher sense trail telling you where to go or what to do; you have to figure things out for yourself.

This ending felt just as satisfying as the other one; the "boss battle" was fun and exciting, and I loved that it served as a final boss that didn't involve me defeating the devil by hitting him enough times with my sword.

As I wrote in my earlier spoiler-free conclusion, it's all this novelty in the story, the presentation of the characters, the unique quest mechanics, and the imaginative scenarios you find yourself in that made Hearts of Stone feel so special to me. The fact that it's also better mechanically, addressing and fixing several key issues I had with the base game, is just the icing on the cake. If you already own The Witcher 3, then Hearts of Stone is a must-buy; if you don't already own TW3, then it's almost worth it to buy a copy just to play Hearts of Stone as its own stand-alone game, with the added value of a 100+ hour base game thrown in for good measure.

The Witcher 3: Blood & Wine - Review

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Blood & Wine is the second expansion for The Witcher 3: Wild Hunt, and the last bit of content that will ever be produced in The Witcher series. With no plans for any future games in the series, developer CD Projekt designed Blood & Wine to serve as a final farewell tour for Geralt, sending him on one last adventure in a new land before he puts up his swords and retires from his life as a monster-hunter-for-hire. For that reason alone, Blood & Wine is a special, magical experience that serves as a fine coda for one of the best open-world games -- and one of the best video games in general -- ever created, but there's a lot more to appreciate about Blood & Wine than its sentimental value.

Whereas Hearts of Stone felt like it was, essentially, just a new story set within the confines of TW3, Blood & Wine is a full-fledged expansion fully deserving of its $20 price tag. Blood & Wine offers upwards of 30 hours of extra content with an all-new main story in a brand new region, Toussaint, complete with dozens of new quests, tons of new weapons and armor, new enemies, a new system for improving Geralt's witcher abilities with skill points and mutagens, and a player home that you can upgrade to give you extra benefits as a base of operations. There's enough original content in Blood & Wine that it could have been sold as its own stand-alone game, and the majesty of its presentation is simply breath-taking.

Unfortunately, nothing in Blood & Wine is much of a game-changer, with the exception of the new mutations and possibly the player home -- otherwise, it's all basically just more of the same from a game that was already a little too long and bloated to begin with, and at least in my opinion, nothing in Blood & Wine really outshines anything that's been done previously in either the base game or Hearts of Stone. That's not much of a criticism, mind you; CD Projekt set the bar so high with its previous efforts that coming up a little short still puts Blood & Wine well beyond other game experiences from other developers. But if you're someone like me who's feeling a little burned out from playing the same game for so long, then Blood & Wine will only give you so much of a spark before it settles back into routine.


The first thing most people will probably fall in love with is Toussaint itself, with its bright, colorful fairy-tale vistas offering a stark contrast to the often-times decrepit, dark-fantasy atmosphere of the base game. There's no denying its beauty, and I particularly enjoy how its rolling hills and mountains let you see major landmarks all across the terrain. There's something immensely satisfying about being able to see something cool seemingly miles in the distance, and then being able to work your way towards it and see it up close, which was mostly missing from the base game because everything was so flat, with trees usually blocking your line of sight. Exploration, in that sense, is pretty engaging because the world feels much more condensed, with a lot more visibly intriguing things beckoning you towards them.

Pacing becomes an issue with a map this size, however, as Toussaint inherits some of the same problems I criticized in the base game. It can get a little tedious trying to do a quest that sends you way off into uncharted territory when four other quests and points of interest pop up along the way that pull you away from what you were originally doing. It's also pretty annoying when you're exploring just for the fun of it and find some place cool and interesting, only to discover that you can't actually do anything there because it's part of a quest you don't have. That sort of thing is fine every now and then, but it feels like a lot of stuff in Blood & Wine is locked behind quest progression, with locked doors mysteriously opening and unusable items suddenly becoming usable only when a quest calls for it.


A lot of quests, meanwhile, are fairly boring and straightforward. There are over 60 side-quests in Blood & Wine, and over half of them are single-step "go here, kill this, report back" quests. A bunch are about killing monsters to clear cellars and vineyards for vintners, with three of the major ones giving you five objectives, each, that involve going to five different locations to kill things. Another five quests are about helping stone-workers build a giant statue of Lebioda, which you do by going to five places and killing things; another quest involves helping 15 knight errants by going to 15 different places and killing things. Fifteen quests are treasure hunts which basically amount to "go here, loot this chest." A few other quests are so short that they're completed mere seconds after you pick them up.

Nearly every one of these trivial quests has some kind of story behind it, but almost all of them happen through diaries and letters that you find lying around at the scene, which I find kind of lazy and uninteresting. For starters, I find it hard to believe that every single person in this world keeps a diary on them at all times, and that everyone keeps it up to date until the moment before they die. An occasional diary entry here and there is fine, but it often feels excessive in Blood & Wine; it gets a little tiring only ever reading about all these interesting events, and not actually getting to see or experience them, especially when you realize they typically have zero effect on the gameplay. After a while of finding random notes on random corpses in random places, I stopped caring and stopped reading them.


Not all the quests are boring monster-slaying, mind you. One quest involves a young maiden who was cursed by Gaunter O'Dimm decades ago, having been turned into a hideous wight with insatiable hunger; you're given the option to lift the curse, which you do by sitting down to eat with the wight, and you have to make some choices which lead to either success or failure. Another quest sends you into a literal fairy-tale world where you get to play a role in various fairy-tales and see the twisted outcomes of some fairy-tales whose characters have gotten sick of being a part of them. Other quests are equally interesting with original premises, but besides their originality they're mostly on par with other quests in the base game, and none of them come close to matching the main story of Hearts of Stone.

I realized after writing the above paragraph that both of my examples of good, memorable quests were from the main questline, and that there really weren't many good, memorable side-quests. There's one quest to reopen an old bank account which turns out to be a wild goose chase hunting down the right paperwork, and closely mirrors the frustration of dealing with bureaucracies in real life; another quest to retrieve a set of magical stamina-boosting testicles that were stolen from a stone sculpture; a quest to test your alignment with the five chivalric virtues, which is determined by what choices you make in the other side-quests; and a couple more quests about lifting curses from young maidens, one of whom was turned into a tree and another of whom has been slowly turning into a bird. These are the only ones I distinctly remember; everything else was, apparently, forgettable.


The main story of Blood & Wine, meanwhile, never really interested me, apart from a few individual moments within it. You're brought to Toussaint by the request of its duchess to kill a mysterious beast believed to be responsible for several grisly deaths. You quickly learn that the beast is really a higher vampire acting under the influence of another party, and then you spend the next large chunk of the main quest trying to figure out who's really behind the attacks. Once you figure that out, the final third of the story involves finding that person and putting a stop to the murders, with a branching path at the very end about how to accomplish that. It's longer than the main story of Hearts of Stone, but I never felt as closely connected to any of its major characters, certain parts of it felt almost like busy-work filler-content, and the plot ultimately boils down to a petty squabble between two people, which isn't that exciting and felt kind of underwhelming as it progressed.


There are several new ways to improve your character, with enough content to increase your level from the mid-30s to over level 50. The main feature is the new mutation system that gives you extra abilities to spend your extra skill points on. These mutations are pretty powerful and enable cool effects, like making Aard freeze enemies and, possibly, shatter them at the same time, in addition to unlocking extra slots to fill with basic abilities from the original skill trees. Unfortunately, I ended up not gaining much from the mutation system because of the steep costs to move up the mutation skill trees, with them initially costing two skill points and then increasing to three, five, and seven skill points, each, and requiring you to connect multiple paths to reach stronger mutations. You can only have one mutation active at a time, and so I spent almost the entirety of Blood & Wine with one simple tier-two mutation while I fruitlessly saved up skill points to invest in a tier-four mutation that I never reached before finishing the expansion.

The other major addition in Blood & Wine is a private estate given to you near the beginning, which you can spend money to renovate and thereby unlock extra bonuses. You can outfit it with a laboratory that grants you extra potions and bombs, a garden that will continually produce herbs, a stable to increase Roach's stamina, a better bed to increase your vitality, a library for your books that also grants extra experience from combat, grindstones and armor tables on site to improve your weapons and armor, as well as armor and weapon stands for displaying fancy gear you've acquired, and spaces to hang paintings. It also has a storage chest. Most of the stat boosts trigger as resting bonuses when you sleep in your bed and last for 60-120 minutes of real time. It was pretty fun to see the estate evolve as you put money into it, and the practical benefits were certainly worth it, but I do wish there was more to do with it; it caught me by surprise how quickly I was able to max it out, which left me with an empty feeling of "that's it?" despite the great benefits.


Still, it serves a point as the backdrop for Geralt's retirement, a place for him to settle down with whomever you romanced in the base game. And that's ultimately the point of Blood & Wine; to bring about a satisfying conclusion to Geralt's adventures over the last three games. In that sense, Blood & Wine is a triumphant success with a lot of feel-good moments and a picturesque ending. For that reason alone, Blood & Wine is absolutely worth playing, but that doesn't mean it's perfect. The base game already felt too big and bloated, and this expansion follows that design philosophy of churning out more quantity (which was already abundantly present in the base game) instead of focusing more on quality like Hearts of Stone did. Nothing in Blood & Wine is actually bad, except maybe the simple, repetitive side-quests, but very little of it's actually better than what we've already seen and done in Wild Hunt or Hearts of Stone. A few good moments and mechanics shine through, but otherwise, the majority of this expansion is somewhat "meh" to me.

That apathetic feeling towards Blood & Wine may simply be the result of me feeling the fatigue of playing one game for five months straight. When you spend 200 hours playing the same game, it all starts to feel kind of samey. This expansion brought about a cool "wow factor" for the first several hours as I simply took in the beautiful sights of Toussaint and once again got hooked searching for better equipment and planning how to invest skill points in a new skill tree, and upgrading the new player home. Once I got past all of the shiny new sparkle, however, it started to feel like the same old Witcher 3 again. So I guess if you played through all of Wild Hunt and Hearts of Stone and are still craving more content, or if you had to take time off from your playthrough to wait for the new expansions to release, then you'll probably enjoy Blood & Wine more than I did. But if playing The Witcher 3 has started to feel tiring to you, then Blood & Wine isn't going to fix that. It's still worth playing just to see how the series ends, but don't go in expecting a game-changing experience. 

Dark Souls 3: Ashes of Ariandel - Review

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Ashes of Ariandel is the first of two planned DLCs for Dark Souls III; it adds a new region to the game with a new boss, new enemies, new armor sets, new weapons and spells, and a PVP arena that can be accessed from the Firelink bonfire once you find and beat the second, hidden boss. For $15, it'll get you about four hours of content and at least one new toy for each type of build, which you can put to use in the arenas for 1vs1 duels (un-embered, no estus), free-for-all brawls (timed match with respawn, limited estus, player with most kills wins), or team-brawls (same as free-for-all, except 2vs2 or 3vs3). For the most part, it's all quality content with memorable encounters and fun new weapons, and the PVP arena will really help extend the game's life for those interested in PVP.

Despite its overall quality, Ashes of Ariandel wasn't that satisfying for me. Part of that has to do with its relatively short length; I was able to explore everywhere and do everything possible in a single afternoon, and the whole thing felt anticlimactic. In typical Souls fashion, the story is practically non-existent, with you entering the Painted World of Ariandel on an incredibly vague pretense, and then wandering around aimlessly until you trigger its ending, which leaves everything almost completely unresolved. In the end, this DLC felt more like it was a hidden, optional area that was cut from the base game instead of a proper DLC expansion. It's not a bad experience, mind you, but apart from the PVP arena I feel like I wouldn't have missed much if I'd just skipped it altogether.

The new area in Ashes of Ariandel is a snowy wasteland reminiscent of the Painted World of Ariamis from the first Dark Souls. It begins with an open snowfield that leads to a set of crumbling ruins, and then to a cathedral across a long rope bridge. From there you can descend a ways down the mountain to the rot-infested Corvian settlement, then cross a snowy mountain pass to reach the underside of the cathedral, which loops back up to the cathedral itself. That's about it; there are two other hidden paths to take, one that leads to an NPC invader and another that leads to an optional secondary boss, but both of these terminate in a dead end and don't really contribute anything to the main "story" of the DLC. If you ignore those two side-routes, you can run from the beginning of the DLC through every other area to the final boss, stopping only for one essential fight, in less than 10 minutes.


It'll take you much longer than that if you want to actually explore everywhere to get all the loot, fight all the enemies, and talk to all the NPCs, of course, but it's kind of disappointing to realize that the DLC is essentially just one short path to the boss chamber, and then it's over. The two side-paths are welcome additions, but they're deliberately hidden -- so well that I might not have even found them if not for floor messages left by other players. Even then, they're so short with so little of interest to do along the way (no fun twists in the level design, no unique encounters, extremely few enemies) that they're over almost as soon as you find them. The fact that one of the paths needlessly recycles the giant crabs from the base game, and that the only other boss battle in the DLC consists of a basic NPC enemy and another recycled enemy type (but much bigger), is almost inexcusable.

Except for those two lackluster side-routes and the general linearity towards the main boss chamber, the level design is actually pretty good. There may be only one real route through the DLC, but it's full of side areas and off-shoots to explore with a lot of hidden loot. The initial snowfield, for instance, is a pretty wide-open space with no clear sense of direction, which can make it a bit confusing trying to figure out where to go in addition to keeping track of where you've already been. The Corvian settlement features a lot of vertical levels that have you working from the gutters below the town up to ground level and then onto the roofs, unlocking a lot of shortcuts and one-way doors in the process. The mountain pass has a lot of winding paths with trees and cliff faces obscuring your line of sight, making it feel almost like a maze as you try to work your way to the top while exploring everywhere.


Some moments along the way stand out as fairly unique and memorable. Fighting the giant Viking-like Millwood knights while an archer shoots at you from atop the belltower with great arrows that cause the ground to erupt at the point of impact; the giant wolf that appears at the top of a steep path up the mountain, howling to summon more wolves before leaping down to cut off your path; the final boss and its surprise phases; the first Corvian knight slowly walking towards you as you enter the bowels of the Corvian settlement; walking around the settlement itself, with a bunch of mostly docile slug-like humanoids wailing and trudging around, showing just how badly the painted world is rotting and the effect it's taking on its inhabitants, leaving you to wonder what's really going on in this world.

None of this is really that special, however, and I ultimately found more enjoyment in the random, unscripted interactions with other players. I was invaded as soon as I entered the DLC, and got to experience the thrill of fighting off an invader who was trying to lure me into traps while I explored unfamiliar territory. The giant wolf encounter was kicking my ass, but I stumbled upon a purple summon sign and brought him in to help (hopefully). He did, and we went about our way in jolly co-op for a while, before being invaded by another Red. A Blue got summoned because of the invader, and promptly tried to kill my friendly Purple. After finally convincing him not to kill the Purple, we went on and eventually found (and killed) the Red. Then, while exploring the top of the bell tower, my friendly Purple betrayed me and tried to knock me off, but I'd equipped the Silvercat Ring beforehand, which saved me from the fall, and then I killed him as he jumped down to try to finish me off.


I went into Ashes of Ariandel on my level 120 character in New Game Plus Mode and found it decently challenging. The common wolf enemies move around a lot and are difficult to keep track of without being super annoying like all the other dog-type enemies in the series, and the giant wolf with its lunging and sweeping attacks that cover huge distances and kick up clouds of snow to obstruct your view gave me such a hard time that I panicked and summoned help. The Corvian knights have such quick attacks with unique movesets that they caught me completely off-guard and forced me to heal a few times just to get through a single encounter with a single one of them. Unfortunately, any real difficulty is offset by the typical overabundance of bonfires, with a whopping five of them on the way to the main boss. For being such a short DLC, I feel like they could've done with just two or three to make surviving to the next bonfire part of the challenge.

The final boss is pretty challenging, at least, ranking among the toughest of the entire series. I've found, however, that its difficulty can vary a lot depending on your build and weapon of choice. The final boss does a lot of fast, 360-degree, distance-closing, multi-hit combo attacks that I found nearly impossible to land hits against while using my trusty two-handed zweihander. The boss's attacks are so fast, and the zweihander's (and any ultra great weapon's, for that matter) so slow, that any time I'd try to attack I'd either get interrupted first, or the boss would dodge away before the attack went through, or I'd get punished hard with immediate counter-attacks and have no stamina to roll away because the zwei attacks cost so much stamina. I struggled hard trying to beat the boss using my beloved zwei, but found it almost laughably easy once I switched to a shield and estoc, because it was so much easier to land hits, interrupt the boss, and avoid taking damage.


This DLC thus reinforces a feeling I've had for a while now that From Soft just don't care about heavy weapons like ultra greatswords, great hammers, and great axes. As part of the DLC release, they applied a patch that supposedly adds improved functionality to poise, somehow making it so that, with higher poise values, your attacks with heavier weapons will be less likely to be interrupted, but only during certain frames of their attack animations (called "hyper armor"). A welcome addition that would seemingly make life a bit easier attacking with the big, slow weapons, but the reality is this system only benefits medium weapons like greatswords, maces, and axes, because they get enough poise and hyper-armor to trade hits with lighter weapons, while still being faster than heavier weapons and thus able to interrupt heavier weapons before their hyper-armor frames even activate.

This was readily apparent in the PVP arena, where I noticed an immediate uptick in the number of people using medium weapons, and where I felt constantly disadvantaged trying to get by with my trusty zweihander. My attacks were always so slow that people could easily dodge them or interrupt me, and while I could occasionally catch people by feinting an attack or delaying a followup attack, it only ever worked once because they didn't fall for those tricks a second time. It felt like, generally, I only won against people who got too greedy and made careless mistakes, or against clueless fools who thought they could trade hits with me; against anyone remotely skilled, I stood no chance. Being beaten by someone better than you is to be expected, but I fared much better, even against gold-ranked players, when I switched to katanas and straight swords, which tells me that the heavy weapons are simply out-classed by virtually every other weapon type. Or that I'm just terrible with them, which I find hard to believe considering I've been using them almost exclusively ever since Demon's Souls


The PVP arena is another welcome addition to the game, but it isn't quite where it should be in terms of quality or polish. It has several game modes including one-on-one duels, multi-player free-for-all, and team battles, but I find most of its modes a little unsatisfying. Free-for-all brawls are just a chaotic mess of people running around kill-stealing each other, because all that really matters is who lands the last hit, which I feel strips the mode of the depth and nuance the PVP system is renowned for. One-on-one "honor duels" would be nice, except everyone plays with 30% lower un-embered health values, which makes fights often feel a little too short with the victor usually being the first to land two or three combos, and the loser being the first to make a mistake. Two-player brawl is probably my favorite, since everyone gets to play with the extra 30% health and limited healing, with the winner being whomever gets the most kills over the course of five minutes. I like it because fights tend to last longer, and getting to respawn and face the opponent again gives you more of a chance to learn and adapt to what they're doing. 

So many things bother me about team arena. First and foremost is how difficult it is to tell who's on your team -- they could have easily made it "red vs blue" and given everyone the appearance of a red or blue phantom, or put a scoreboard on the HUD with players' names in it. But they didn't. Instead players drop into matches looking exactly like they do based on whatever covenant they're currently set to, and you have to find people and get close enough to them to see whose names are displayed in red, which signifies them as opponents. The only other way to tell who's on your team is by turning the camera away from everyone else so that your allies' health bars show up on the side of the screen, memorizing their names, then hunting people down and remembering what they look like. All of which is much more of a hassle than it should be, just to know who's on your team or not, and makes team arenas a little less enjoyable for me. 


I've also found that there's a tendency for team arenas to become easily stacked in one team's favor. When one team scores a kill, they get a free recharge on their normally one-use estus flask, which means the first team to get a kill not only gets more healing capability to stay in the fight longer, but also benefits from then out-numbering the other team, which can potentially persist for the rest of the fight. For the team that scores the first kill in a 2v2 match, if they both survive they can stick together and go after the other team as they respawn one at a time, because if the other team is dying at staggered intervals they'll be respawning at staggered intervals, often times at opposite ends of the overly large arena, meaning you can be forcibly separated from your teammate for the bulk of the match if you get caught in that loop. This is less of an issue in 3v3 matches, but it can still happen. Nearly every team match I've played ended up with one team steamrolling the other, because once you get knocked down it's really hard to get back up. 

The new DLC weapons have some of the coolest, most unique movesets of the entire game which makes them a lot of fun to use, but there are definite balancing issues that lead some of them to feel significantly stronger than other weapons. The carthus curved sword was already one of the most powerful, over-abused weapons in the base game, and the DLC adds the follower sabre, an identical weapon with an even better weapon art. The onyx blade is a greatsword that deals really high damage and has almost as much reach as an ultra greatsword. Valorheart is a sword and shield twin set that gives you straight sword-style movesets with a shield that automatically blocks hits during your own attack animations. These and other weapons from the DLC are so popular right now, whether that's because of how good they are or simply because they're new and fun, and it just gets tiring fighting against the same handful of weapons all the time. 


So, ultimately, I don't care much for Ashes of Ariandel. The PVE portion of it, with the new region and final boss is decent, but it has pacing issues that made me feel like I was just wandering around until it was over, and it's so short that I actually spent more time writing this review than playing it. The PVP arena is a great addition, but there are some quality of life issues they could (and hopefully will) improve. I'm also not fond of how the arena is locked behind a hidden, optional boss fight in the DLC, because only people who buy the DLC and find the boss will be able to participate in it, which I imagine must be a drastically smaller portion of the overall community. For $15 you're paying for a few hours of entertainment exploring the new area, a bunch of fancy new weapons, and the PVP arena. The arena makes getting into matches a lot quicker and easier and can significantly extend the life of the game for you if you're into PVP, but aside from that it doesn't really feel like you're getting a lot of stuff for your money. 

For a piece of DLC to be a quarter of the cost of the base game, you'd hope that it would give you a quarter of the content and entertainment value of the base game. Ashes of Ariandel doesn't come close to matching that ratio. For some, the new weapons, new challenging boss, and the PVP arena are enough to justify its cost, but unless you're a superfan who's completely enamored with the Dark Souls games and absolutely need more content to satisfy your hunger, you can probably just skip Ashes of Ariandel, at least for now.

The Evil Within: Surprisingly Disappointing

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The Evil Within (2014) is one of the most notable survival-horror games of the last decade for the simple fact that it was directed by Shinji Mikami, the man responsible for bringing us the original Resident Evil in 1996 and its beloved sequel Resident Evil 4 in 2005. With the man responsible for popularizing the concept of survival-horror games directing his first survival-horror game in almost a decade, there was a lot of hype surrounding The Evil Within, especially considering its strong similarities to Resident Evil 4. Promising a return to "pure survival-horror" that would become "the new face of horror,"The Resident Evil Within certainly looked like the sequel Resident Evil 4 deserved, but ultimately never received.

The similarities are unmistakably present, from the slower-paced survival gameplay that has you exploring environments in search of hidden ammunition and healing supplies to the over-the-shoulder third-person combat system, but The Evil Within spices up that familiar formula by throwing in a stealth system, a more robust system for upgrading your weapons and abilities, and by generally emphasizing horror and tension more than action. It takes a little time for the game to get going and fully open itself up to you, but for a while during the early levels I was prepared to declare The Evil Within a worthy successor to Resident Evil 4 that was actually better in many ways. But as I got further into the game, my awe and optimism turned into detachment and frustration.

The story centers around Krimson City Police Detective Sebastian Castellanos, who's called to investigate a bunch of murders at the Beacon Mental Hospital, where he witnesses a man in a white hooded coat appearing in the blink of an eye and slaughtering policemen with a flick of his wrist. Sebastian gets ambushed and wakes up in a meat locker full of human corpses and has to escape from a hulking chainsaw-wielding maniac. Once free, he meets up with his partners, Joseph Oda and Juli Kidman, who all get in an ambulance with one of the hospital's doctors, Marcelo Jimenez, and his patient, Leslie Withers, as the ground collapses out from underneath them and the city starts crumbling apart. The ambulance goes over a cliff, and Sebastian wakes up separated from everyone else. The rest of the game has Sebastian trying to catch up to and find Leslie, who might be the key to stopping the man in the white hood, who seems to be behind everything.


That's the general premise that gets established during the first chapter, but unfortunately there's not a very compelling story to this game. The game doesn't do a good job of giving you concrete goals to work towards, or reasons why you should care about achieving those goals; throughout the whole game, the only driving force is "find Leslie," but it doesn't explain why that even matters, or what's at stake if you should fail, until near the very end of the game. Meanwhile, Ruvik -- the man in the white hood -- has these supernatural powers to warp you in and out all kinds of crazy nightmare scenarios, which happens basically every single chapter, so the whole game is a random, incoherent mishmash of different environments and situations with no sense of geography, flow, or pacing. As with Leslie, you don't learn how or why any of this is happening until near the end of the game, so I was often left wondering "why am I here, what's going on," and so on.

The first chapter is fairly exciting, but it feels more like a teaser trailer than the start of the actual game, like it was designed primarily to serve as a demo. I love how quickly the game gets into the horror schtick; within minutes of gaining control, you're running from a chainsaw-wielding maniac through comically absurd murder-machines and sliding down a chute into a giant pool of human blood. It's so excessively violent and over-the-top, and it's great. But after that fast start, the game slows way down and then takes forever to introduce its various gameplay mechanics, making you feel like you're in an extended tutorial. The whole first chapter has no health bars, no weapons, no inventory, no skill points, no crafting, no lamp, no nothing. It starts adding gameplay mechancis in during chapter two, one at a time, and it's not until chapter three, roughly two hours into the game, that it starts opening up and actually letting you do things for yourself.

One of the ways in which The Evil Within improves upon the Resident Evil 4 formula is by implementing a stealth system that gives you the choice of conserving ammo by sneaking past enemies or by going for close-range stealth kills. The stealth system is not all that sophisticated -- you simply hold a crouch button and stay out of enemies' line of sight -- but it gets the job done by allowing for creative alternatives to different situations while also adding to the tension. It's really satisfying early on, even if it does feel a little scripted -- it sometimes feels like there's one specific pattern of paths and timings that you have to deduce and follow if you want to stealth through certain levels undetected -- but it's nice having that strategic option available to you.


Stealth is important because it can help you conserve ammunition and avoid taking damage, which are both top priorities in an old-school-feeling survival-horror game like this, where there are sometimes more enemies than you have bullets, and you're only ever a few hits away from a game over screen. The Evil Within places a strong emphasis on the survival side of survival-horror, with a lot of the game's tension deriving from how difficult the game can actually be; it's not just about surviving an encounter or beating a level, it's about doing so as efficiently as you can, because if you make too many mistakes and have to waste too many resources you can leave yourself completely screwed for future encounters.

After years of being coddled by wannabe survival-horror games that basically amount to haunted house jump-scare simulators, I was kind of surprised by how brutally tough The Evil Within actually is, even on the default "normal" difficulty. I remember being super careful sneaking my way through the second chapter, flawlessly dispatching like 10 enemies with stealth kills, avoiding all the explosive trip wires and bear traps that littered the area -- it was a perfect runthrough of that level, but then I got careless at the very end and let two enemies ambush me. They kicked my ass and I nearly died in the span of 10 seconds after spending those 30+ minutes working through the level. I survived, but I had to use both of the healing items I'd found in the level, which set me back to square one and basically meant I had wasted all that effort collecting resources.

Exploration is heavily rewarded in this game, both in terms of ammo and healing items, but also with a substance known as "green gel," which you find in jars lying around hidden areas of the level, and sometimes also harvest from defeated enemies. Green gel is the game's upgrade currency that you spend in the hub area (where you get to save your progress manually) to upgrade Sebastian's skills, like increasing his stamina gauge, increasing how much ammo he can carry, increasing the amount of health that stimpacks heal for, and increasing the stats of Sebastian's various weaponry, among other things. Also scattered throughout levels are locker keys and map fragments, bonus collectibles that unlock greater rewards as you collect more of them. Each locker key will open a locker in the hub which grant you increasing amounts of randomized ammunition and green gel as you unlock more of them, and the map fragments, once all have been found, unlock two unique extra-powerful weapons for New Game Plus mode.


Getting through each of the game's 15 levels therefore involves a pretty satisfying degree of risk-versus-reward. This is a game with tough encounters around nearly every corner, all of which will demand more and more of your resources to survive, but the game gives you the option to avoid a lot of these encounters in favor of taking a safer route, which comes at the expense of missing those hidden collectibles, or missing out on a lot of green gel to make Sebastian stronger. This is a game that puts a shiny object in clear view, but with deadly traps and enemies in the way, and asks you "how badly do you want that item," and "is it worth trying to get to it?" As the type of gamer who likes to face these kinds of challenges and feels compelled to explore everywhere he can, I found it really satisfying how often I was rewarded with extra green gel, or a locker key, or a map fragment, for deciding to take a closer look at an obscure corner of a level.

In terms of horror, The Evil Within is a bit unsettling but never scary or terrifying. There's a ton of gratuitous violence and gore, as evidenced by all the gruesome cinematic death sequences Sebastian can suffer in the game (beware of spoilers in that video link), but that's not really scary. The enemies consist of all kinds of weird, grotesque monsters but most of them just look like generic blobs of flesh to me, not much different from other video game monsters I've encountered before. Sebastian experiences a bunch of weird hallucinations, but none of these affect the gameplay or your condition in any way, so they're mostly just weird visual things happening for inexplicable reasons. It's a tense game, but that's more because of the limited resources, tough difficulty, and heavy emphasis on survival. I love the dark, creepy atmospheres and the gratuitous gore, but I never came close to experiencing any moments of pure terror like I've experienced in other games. Then again, maybe I'm not the best judge of what's scary anymore since I've become so desensitized to it.

Combat is functional, although not as sharp or as satisfying as it is in Resident Evil 4, but that's largely by design, since Mikami wanted The Evil Within to be more of a survival-horror game than an action shooter. As such, Sebastian is not much of a fighter; he can only take 2-3 solid hits before dying, his melee punches are practically useless except in extreme desperation, he can only sprint for a few seconds before running out of breath, and his accuracy with firearms, while not abysmal, is still far from perfect. That would all be fine and good if this were indeed a "pure survival-horror" game like the Steam page claims it to be, but the reality is that The Evil Within is still very much an action game, albeit at a slower pace than Resident Evil 4, considering it seems to forget about stealth almost completely after the first couple of levels while forcing you to kill dozens of enemies at a time to advance in most levels. In essence, it feels like playing Resident Evil 4 but with a less competent protagonist in a somewhat janky, frustrating package.


Sebastian is kind of a burden to control; he moves slowly, he turns slowly, and he aims slowly. Again, that's fine in and of itself, but it gets annoying when enemies juke and dodge faster than you can aim your weapons, and when stuff gets in close and you have basically no way of dealing with anything because all of your weapons are impossible to aim at close range and your melee attacks hardly do anything. There's no quick-turn ability, so when you need to turn and run you're forced to slowly turn Sebastian around and pan the camera around even more slowly so that you can see where you're going, which is often impossible because of the extremely narrow vertical FOV that blocks so much of your view, often leading Sebastian's movement to get stuck on obstacles like fallen chairs that you can't even see.

Interacting with the environment, such as to pick up an item, burn a corpse, or press a button on a control panel, can be finicky too. You need to position Sebastian close enough to and facing the desired object, and then you also have to aim the camera at the object to target it, which can be almost impossible if there's another object closer to the camera because it gets fixated on that one thing in the foreground. Even just positioning Sebastian can be a chore sometimes, with his awkward turning radius and momentum causing you to bump into things in the environment or move out of a safe space into dangerous territory. I struggled just getting him to face a certain way while standing in the right position so I could aim the camera somewhere for a screenshot, and I even struggled to perform melee attacks in the correct direction because he'd insist on curb-stomping a dead corpse in the opposite direction I was facing, or else punch some other random direction I never intended.

It's not just the controls that prove irksome, either; little things with the gameplay pop up all the time that frequently made me feel like I was being unfairly punished because the game just wasn't polished enough. One time I instinctively pressed the action button thinking I could interact with what looked like a button, which then had Sebastian stand up and climb over something and get decapitated. At one point an ally gets kidnapped and is being dragged to a guillotine, and you have limited time to kill the baddies with the sniper rifle before he dies; I missed the first shot and ran out of time, which led to the game taking control away from me so I could watch a cutscene while the ally gets dragged the last 10 feet and dropped into the guillotine while the enemy reaches for the lever, and I'm sitting there literally yelling at the screen "Why can't I shoot them right now?!" Frequently I'd be trying to use a torch or a match on enemies, and then I'd get grabbed by some enemy mere frames before my animation would've finished, thereby canceling my entire attack and, in some cases, leading to my own instant death.


As it turns out, there are a ton of one-hit kills in The Evil Within. I'm fine with a game being challenging and not being afraid to let you die, but I feel like there's a little too much trial-and-error in this game, where you're basically forced to die in a split second for an ignorant mistake, just so you can learn the game's lessons and know what to expect up ahead when you reload the checkpoint. Sometimes, enemies that you've fought before randomly gain one-hit kill abilities, and there's no way of knowing until it gets you. There's one recurring gameplay sequence when Ruvik randomly spawns and stalks you through the levels, and if you let him catch up to you, you die instantly; one time I was running away from him and he teleported right on top of me, before I could even react -- I saw the game over screen fade in before I even got a chance to see him. Most bosses have at least one or two one-hit kills, and most levels have traps lying around that kill you in one hit. Sometimes it feels like the game just decides to screw you over for the sake of stroking its own ego, and there's not usually a lot you can do about it.

As the game goes on, these minor annoyances start to build up, and eventually it got to feel more frustrating than scary, or difficult, or fun. Around halfway through the game you get stuck with an incompetent ally for a few levels whom you can't order around, so you're stuck babysitting them while they insist on standing in a spot where arrows are constantly raining down, or falling off ledges. Towards the end of the game it starts introducing enemies with full suits of bullet-proof body armor and ballistic helmets, armed with assault rifles, and they're just the most tedious, obnoxious enemies to deal with if you don't have the right upgrades. Then the final chapter is a bunch of long, boring, empty hallways that lead to a series of boss chambers where you fight bosses you've already fought before, followed by a highly scripted final boss sequence where you don't get to use any of your weapons or abilities that you spent the entire game developing and earning with green gel.

So while I like the general premise and all the basic components of The Evil Within, I find its execution a little too rough around the edges. I really wanted to like this game, but as I got further and further into it, I just found myself annoyed and increasingly disinterested. In the grand scheme of things, I'd much rather play a survival-horror game like The Evil Within -- flawed but interesting, with actual survival tension -- over a haunted house jump-scare simulator like Outlast, which I think is part of the reason I felt disappointed with The Evil Within, because I had hoped it could be so much more, and it never quite delivered on all of its promises.

Impressions of The Last Guardian

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I had the opportunity over the last week to play several hours of The Last Guardian, the third and latest game by Team Ico set in the same world as Ico and Shadow of the Colossus. I wasn't able to finish it, unfortunately -- I was out of town playing on a friend's PS4 -- but I made it a little more than halfway through, which I feel is sufficient to write a partial review of the game.

The Last Guardian feels a lot like Ico, with you playing a young boy trying to navigate his way through dilapidated fortresses while escorting an NPC-ally through the environments. Except, instead of escorting a helpless young girl around, you're working together with a giant beast named Trico who needs your help as much as you need his in order to progress. Working with Trico feels, at times, like playing Shadow of the Colossus, because of how you often have to climb and manipulate Trico in order to get around. As the third game of this quasi-series, The Last Guardian feels like a pretty good mixture of everything that came before it. And if the first two games were good, then The Last Guardian must also be good, right?

The answer to that question is, of course, a bit of "yes and no."

On the bright side of things, The Last Guardian has that unique, almost breath-taking atmosphere you'd expect from Ico and Shadow of the Colossus. The art style and general look of this world, with its misty mountains and crumbling ruins, wide-angle shots, sweeping camera angles, and the complete lack of a heads-up display, all do a really good job of transporting you into the game world. The little details like the made-up language and the recurring themes of sacrifice, horns, and tattoos seem to connect The Last Guardian to its elder brethren, which is always fun to see yet another angle on what appears to be all the same setting and to try to piece everything together.



Much like Ico and Shadow of the Colossus, the bulk of the gameplay in The Last Guardian consists of light platforming and puzzle-solving, the likes of which typically involve trying to figure out how to get from one place to another, such as when you come to a tiny opening that Trico couldn't possibly fit through and have to find a way to get him through or around it. These puzzles are usually pretty simple, but they're implemented naturally and convincingly in the environment; it doesn't feel like you're solving a puzzle, and it's pretty satisfying how each one incorporates the different characteristics of your two characters into the equation.

I also found that working with Trico instilled a surprisingly genuine sense of companionship. Typically in these sorts of games that you play with an NPC ally, that person is just a character in the story, or they exist simply to serve a mechanical purpose in the gameplay. With Trico, there's a strong symbiotic relationship involved, where you're both independent characters who need each other in order to get by. The young boy you play as is completely defenseless, so when the armored knights show up and start attacking you, you have to run and yell for Trico to come protect you. When the fight's over, he's usually hurt or riled up and you need to tend to his wounds and calm him down. The way your bond grows over the course of the game, from first meeting each other and him wanting you to stay back while he eats and getting mad when you get close, to him eventually eating out of your hand and letting you climb up to his head, is both charming and endearing. And since you don't control him directly, he feels more like a real character that you have to rely and depend upon.


Unfortunately, the fact that you don't control Trico directly is also one of the game's core problems. So much of the gameplay requires getting Trico to do very specific things in order to advance, and it can be really frustrating when he doesn't do what you want him to. I remember one section of the game when I spent 10 minutes trying to get him to jump up a series of posts to reach a higher ledge, or stand on his back legs and stretch up the length of a wall to get me to a catwalk; he would almost do what I wanted him to, but the game offered no feedback for why he wasn't going all the way, or why he wasn't doing it in the right places. It turns out I was supposed to be doing something else, but it seemed like I was on the right trail, based on the appearance of the level design and the fact that he was almost doing what I needed him to do, but I had no way of knowing if the reason he wasn't doing what I wanted was because I wasn't issuing the commands right, or because he was just being stupid, or because the game actually didn't want me to do that.

These moments of frustration and aggravation don't just occur with directing Trico. There was one area with a chain dangling down from the ceiling, which I thought I needed to climb, but my character repeatedly refused to grab onto it. This led me to assume I had to get Trico to do something with it, because when he started pawing at it, the chain being pulled caused the gate ahead to retract a little. So then I spent five minutes fruitlessly trying to get Trico to pull the chain, only to discover that, for whatever reason, my character finally decided to grab onto the chain, and that I was supposed to climb up it and do something up there to get Trico to use the chain correctly. In this case, I was trying to do the correct thing originally but the game itself was just not letting me do so while simultaneously giving me feedback that sent me down a wrong trail.

In another section of the game, you're supposed to sneak past armored knights that are stationed like security cameras rotating around with a beam of light showing their area of visibility, to reach a winch that you need to operate to raise a gate and let Trico through. I didn't realize that the knights could detect me by sound, so when I tried to run past the last one to reach the winch, they all came to life and started attacking me, which forced me to spend 10 minutes getting caught, spamming buttons to break free, luring them away from the winch, getting caught, mashing buttons, and running back to the winch to operate it for a few seconds at a time before being caught and having to repeat the process of luring them away and running back for the winch to operate it just a little more. I'm sure someone in the design room thought it would be tense and exciting gameplay having to contend with enemies without Trico there to defend you, but that whole process was just tedious.


Finally, the whole game is a series of small scenarios that involve getting from point A to point B, but it's not always clear where you're actually trying to get to, or what goal you're actually trying to accomplish. A lot of times, the game drops you into a new room and you just wander around until you find the only path available to you, and then you mindlessly proceed down it until you find a mechanism that you operate, not knowing what it's going to do, and then watch as the game basically solves the problem for you. Although the puzzles are usually pretty satisfying, that's not always the case, as I sometimes felt like I wasn't actually engaged in solving them, or that I wasn't actually solving a problem but rather doing a thing to make a thing happen for whatever inexplicable reason that would let me advance.

Based on my experience playing a little more than half of the game, I don't think I'd recommend The Last Guardian. I, for one, feel no particular desire to finish it. It's a decent game most of the time, but it doesn't feel very original, since it feels so much like a retread of Ico with hints of Shadow of the Colossus. There's a certain nostalgic feeling to be had playing The Last Guardian, since it feels so much like those other two games I so strongly admired 10-15 years ago, but my appreciation for it doesn't extend much further than "it reminds me of these other games I used to like." I suppose if you've never played a Team Ico game before, The Last Guardian will feel fresh and unique, but for me the game felt kind of average, which is especially underwhelming considering I'd been eagerly waiting nearly a decade to play this game.

Shadow of Mordor: "Eh, It's Aight"

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I didn't like Middle-Earth: Shadow of Mordor at first. In fact, there were times when I actively disliked it. For the first two hours I was so confused and overwhelmed that I just wasn't having fun with the game, and so I stopped playing for a couple weeks. I came back to it later, put another two hours into it, and started getting the hang of things; I could see some of the game's appeal, but it still wasn't catching my interest. I stopped playing for a few more weeks, then came back for another two hours and decided that I just wasn't interested in finishing the game. I was ready to start writing a negative impressions review, but after giving it some sleep I decided to give Shadow of Mordor one last chance. That's when everything finally clicked for me, and I finally started having some fun. I finished the game two days later.

It's safe to say that I liked Shadow of Mordor overall, but I'm certainly not on the "best game ever" hype-train that a lot of people were riding back in late 2014 and early 2015. Shadow of Mordor definitely has its problems, and although the core gameplay is really satisfying and addicting (if you can get into it), it proves to be awfully shallow and repetitive. This is an open-world game where the open world doesn't even matter, and where all you ever do is kill orcs. This is a mechanically-solid game that successfully blends the Assassin's Creed-style free-running parkour and stealth-action systems with the Batman: Arkham Asylum-style attack/counter-attack combat system, that unfortunately doesn't have much character or soul beneath those mechanics. It could've been great, but the end result is a game that's just a little bit better than average, and ultimately still kind of disappointing.

Set within the mythology of J.R.R. Tolkien's The Lords of the Rings, between the events of The Hobbit and The Fellowship of the Ring, Shadow of Mordor tells the story of Talion, a Ranger of Gondor who witnesses his wife and child murdered by Sauron's forces, who is then murdered himself. Talion finds himself brought back to life, possessed by the spirit of an elven warrior suffering from amnesia, who was also killed by Sauron. Bound by their eternal state of undying, they vow to seek revenge on Sauron's henchmen, and stop just shy of stopping Sauron himself. The rest of the game consists of discovering the elven wraith's identity by seeking out artifacts tied to his past, cutting through the ranks of orcish warchiefs that lie between you and Sauron's henchmen, and eventually building a small army to attack the Black Hand's fortress beyond the Black Gate of Mordor.

Talion sparring with his son during the intro cutscene.

Part of the reason I had such a difficult time getting into Shadow of Mordor is that the story is rubbish. The premise is pretty much what you'd expect from a Lord of the Rings game; fighting a one-man war against Sauron's army of uruks with a personal revenge story twist to make us care. The problem is, they didn't do anything with the protagonist or his family, the ones for whom we're supposed to be seeking revenge, to make us care. We get a one-minute scene of Talion sparring with his son, followed by a 30-second dialogue with his wife about wanting to move and find a new life elsewhere, and then everyone dies. That's just not enough time to develop any kind of attachment to or connection with these characters -- throughout the whole game I couldn't even remember their names, which, needless to say, meant their deaths gave me no motivation to push forward in the story.

On the more immediate side of things, it's not really clear what you're actually trying to do or what's actually going on. After the intro cutscenes, the game just drops you right into the open world, free to go off and do whatever you want. And I was just sitting there like "Ok, so, I'm a dead man caught in limbo who wants to not be dead? Or, who wants to be dead? So I have to do... something? And avenge my family in the process, somehow?" At which point I just started running around the map collecting random items, doing random challenges, and killing random uruks for seemingly no narrative purpose whatsoever. "This is all pointless," I thought after a few hours, even while doing main missions that look into your wraith-companion's history. If you want any more backstory for your family or the other goings on in and around Mordor, you have to hunt down collectible artifacts in the environment (which are basically just audiologs from a few characters) or sit at the loading screen three or four times longer than necessary to hear audiolog flashbacks of your family. Neither of these are very engaging options for getting the story because they're both so completely detached from the gameplay and the world you actually inhabit.

An artifact with an attached audio/text log. 

The world itself may be the most disappointing thing about Shadow of Mordor. It's an open-world sandbox type of structure with two wide-open maps to explore (you unlock the second one halfway through the main missions), but very little of what you do in the open world actually matters. You can find random artifacts (with audio logs for fleshing out some of the side-characters, who get zero characterization through the actual story missions), random plants (part of a series of 'survival challenges' where you have to find X number of specific plants), random animals/monsters (part of a series of 'hunting challenges' where you have to find and kill X number of specific animals/monsters), and random elven glyphs, all of which are in the game purely for the sake of achievements and padding the game length with extra arbitrary tasks. Anything worth doing in this world happens inside a mission, which moves you from the main map to a separate, instanced version of it which only exists for the purpose and duration of that mission.

So really, all you do in the open-world sandbox is search for random collectibles, encounter random uruk patrols (which you'll eventually ignore because it's so pointless fighting random uruks), and run to the next mission starting point. There's no sense of structure or purpose to the world itself -- it's just a shallow backdrop for spreading the mission points apart. There's no point in exploring, and no reason to pay attention to your surroundings or learn the layout of the maps, because when you're "exploring" you're just watching the mini-maps and following waypoints to any icons that show up. You simply run past everything, only stopping to investigate pre-marked points of interest. It's pretty clear that there's no point to the open world when you can go into a cave that uruks have human slaves excavating, liberate the slaves by killing every uruk in sight, turn a corner, then turn back into the main section of the cave and find that it's been instantly repopulated with new uruks and new slaves, because you liberating those slaves did absolutely nothing.

The only thing redeeming the open-world sandbox structure is the so-called Nemesis system, a sort of process running in the background that generates special mini-boss uruks called "captains" by randomly combining visual components, stats, names, and features to create a bunch of unique enemies that will be different every time you play, and that will change and evolve as you kill or are killed by these captains. Different captains are generated with different traits -- one might be easily frightened by wild beasts, while another might be adept at killing beasts; one might be a really good fighter and prevent you from vaulting over him or stunning him, and get special attack bonuses that make him attack faster while requiring you to counter every attack in his flurry individually, while another might be an expert marksman with poison-tipped arrows who will call in reinforcements if he survives a few hits, but can be killed in one-hit by stealth tactics.

An example uruk captain with his strengths and weaknesses.

Each captain will be randomly assigned 6-12 of these strengths and weaknesses, meaning every one that you fight may require a slightly different strategy to take down. The catch is you don't know any of these traits until you interrogate an uruk to learn more about a certain captain, or gain intelligence by finding documents lying around uruk camps or by talking to freed slaves. If you've learned about a specific captain, then you get that fun planning phase followed by a cat-and-mouse phase where you figure out how you're going to exploit the environment to take him down, and then try to lure him into different traps and scenarios; if you're randomly being ambushed by a captain you know nothing about, then you get that thrill of improvising on the spot, trying to figure out what works and what doesn't work.

If a captain kills you, he'll increase in power, possibly gaining new attributes and even moving up the ranks of Sauron's army; if you defeat him (without decapitating him), he may recover and come back later with scars and a memory of your last encounter; if he runs away and escapes, he might come back with new attributes that he learned during the fight. Captains spawn and randomly patrol the world map, so you never know when you'll run into one (unless you're specifically hunting one, and even then, there might be others around that you didn't anticipate), and they can even have random events that occur outside of your presence. They go on beast hunts, hold executions, recruit more followers, host feasts, duel one another, and so on -- if you know that these events are going on, you can crash them to not only kill the captain, but also disrupt Sauron's army further. If you let too much time pass (say, if you die) then these events can happen on their own, and you watch a screen that shows how the power hierarchy shifts as time has passed.

Infiltrating a stronghold and branding uruks to obey my will.

In the second half of the game, you gain the ability to dominate and brand uruks, turning them into loyal subjects that you can command or kill at will. If they're captains, you can tell them to go places, help you out, attack other captains, have them become bodyguards for higher-ranked warchiefs, and then betray that warchief to assume his position. You can start attending their random events and, instead of killing them or thwarting the event, you can help them out to have them grow stronger. This is how you build your army for the game's finale -- by branding uruks and working them up the ranks. There's a lot of fun, creative stuff you can do with this system if you really get into it, like grooming the perfect candidates to ascend the ranks, or having Pokemon-esque battles where you "catch" captains and train them to go up against other captains for sport.

All this stuff going on means two people playing side-by-side can have vastly different experiences, with completely different stories to tell about their time with the game. The Nemesis system lets you shape a unique gameplay experience based on the actions you take within the world, and it creates this feeling of being in a living, breathing world with emergent qualities. It can be a lot of fun, but it can also start to feel shallow and pointless after a while. Eventually it doesn't matter what captains you kill, because there's always going to be another randomly-generated captain stepping up to replace the one you just killed, so it stops feeling like you're making progress cutting through the ranks of Sauron's army, and unless you have repeated encounters with the same captain (because he keeps killing you or running away), then all the new replacements start to feel like soulless, generic, random mashups -- they stop feeling like unique mini-bosses with their own stories and personalities and just become another tally mark in your kill count.

Combat is a chaotic but relatively simplistic affair, the type of thing introduced in Batman: Arkham Asylum where you press X in-rhythm to attack and build a combo chain, and press Y to block and counter enemy attacks. Some attacks can't be blocked, meaning you have to press A to dodge them. Those are the basics, but as you gain experience and ability points you start unlocking a ton of other options: press B to wraith-stun an enemy, and then spam X to do a flurry of attacks; hold B to drain an enemy and recharge focus and arrows; hold RB to grab an enemy and press A interrogate, X to shank repeatedly, B to brand, Y to command; press A to jump over an enemy and stun them; press LT to throw daggers; hold RT and press A to teleport behind and stun an enemy, or press X to teleport behind and assassinate an enemy; hold LT and press RT to aim and shoot an arrow; when your combo chain is high enough, press Y+B to do a one-shot execution move, press A+X to do an AOE wraith stun, press Y+X to kill stunned enemies or frighten enemies in an AOE, or press A+B to do an instant combat-drain and domination.

Fighting uruks, Press A to dodge incoming attack.

That's not even everything you can do. There's a ton of other stuff I haven't even mentioned, like upgrading basic abilities to do extra stuff, and dominating beasts to use as mounts in combat, among other things. It's relatively simple, but you have so many options available to you, which is kind of essential for a game where basically all you ever do is kill orcs. Unfortunately, it takes time to unlock all of this stuff, and so when you're just starting out you only have the most basic options available to you, meaning combat can be a really tedious slog fighting an entire group of uruks basically one-or-two-at-a-time, slowly building that combo chain so you can execute a finisher, slowly whittling their numbers down one-by-one. It's bog-standard, unexciting stuff at first (yet another reason why it took me so long to get into the game), but as the game progresses and it starts introducing new types of beasts and uruks (and stronger and stronger captains), and as you start learning new abilities, the combat starts becoming a lot more fun and engaging.

I really like, for instance, how caragors (warg-like beasts, except based on cats instead of dogs), graugs (giant troll-like creatures), and even certain captains are basically unkillable until you get stronger, learn new skills, and get better at the combat system. Having those really tough enemies occasionally present to knock you back down a few pegs gives you a good sense of the hierarchy, makes combat somewhat tense knowing that there's always a stronger enemy somewhere out there, and gives you context to measure your growth and improvement, making it really satisfying when you finally kill that one captain who kept giving you so much trouble, or when you can finally stand up to a graug instead of running away.

Fighting a graug while mounted on a caragor.

It does, however, get incredibly repetitive after a while. There may be two dozen or more different ways to kill orcs in this game (and that's really not an exaggeration), but the reality is you only ever need two or three of those ways at any given time. As you get stronger you unlock new abilities; a lot of abilities simply upgrade and/or effectively replace abilities you were already using (ground executions become almost pointless once you unlock combat finishers, for instance), while others are so situational that you won't be using them very often, and may even forget that you have those abilities when you run into situations when you could actually use them. And since you can unlock every ability and upgrade well before the end of the game, you'll be dumping points in skills you'll probably never use, because once you find combinations that are both effective and fun, there's no reason to branch out and try something else, especially when you realize other methods aren't as efficient as what you've been doing and you just want to get to the end of the game faster. 

Stealth is a nice way to mix things up, and was actually my preferred way of playing the game; going in to melee-kill dozens of uruks at a time Dynasty Warriors-style got to feel mindlessly tedious at times (more frequently so as the game went on), where you're just spamming buttons on the controller and hoping to have faster reactions than your opponents. Stealth a little bit more cerebral, the type of deal where you're studying patrol routes to slink behind obstacles or along rooftops to get past enemies, watching and waiting for the right opportunity to swoop in and execute a stealth kill. Whereas you can kill hordes of uruks by just charging in and spamming X and Y, occasionally hitting A or some other button combination like Y+B when your combo chain gets high enough, stealth gives you time to think and be strategic, and there's some actual tension involved in avoiding detection. 

Spying on an uruk stronghold from above.

Missions do a pretty good job of putting you in different situations with different objectives. Besides main missions, you also have various side-missions and challenges to complete for extra experience. These fall into four main categories: combat challenges, stealth challenges, ranged challenges, and slave liberations. There are multiple missions within each category, spread evenly between the two maps, and each one consists of its own scenario with unique twists on the usual gameplay format, as well as a bonus objective that challenges you to try to complete the mission in an unusual way. One stealth mission has you trailing a messenger across the map, and you're supposed to kill each of his informants along the way without being spotted, with bonus rewards for using shadow strikes a certain number of times. A combat mission might tell you to survive and kill 50 uruks, and give you a bonus if you can set 15 of them on fire. The bonus objectives are a nice change of pace that force you to act outside of your usual comfort zone, and they help keep the game feeling somewhat fresh from moment to moment.

Some missions suffer from idiosyncratic logic, however, with really tedious fail conditions that abruptly end the mission and force you to walk all the way back to the starting point to try again. In some stealth missions where they say "avoid detection," you're fine if an uruk spots you, as long as you kill him before he can alert anyone else, while other stealth missions with the same "avoid detection" objective fail instantly the moment a single uruk catches a mere glimpse of you. I had one mission fail because I walked too close to the edge of the mission zone, without actually leaving the mission zone, and had another mission fail because I killed the target I was supposed to kill before the game flagged him as my actual target. One of the main missions moves you to the edge of the second map, and I thought I had free reign at that point to start running around exploring, but then suddenly had the main mission fail and send me back to other map, as if I'd never even started the mission, because I was apparently supposed to be doing a specific thing in that instance and was wandering out of the mission zone.

There's also this weird logic where a lot of the game's tutorials and instructions for how to actually play the game, how your abilities work, how the Nemesis system works, and so on, are all explained to you through main missions, which are spread all across the map and are sequence-locked behind mission progression, restricting many until later on, thus requiring you to go through a ton of other things just to get to them, such that you encounter a ton of game mechanics and situations long before the game actually tells you about them. It's like being a new swimmer and getting thrown straight into the deep end of a pool, and the instructor tells you you have to make it to the other side before he'll teach you how to swim -- you have to already know how to swim to learn how to swim. The game throws you straight into the open world without teaching you hardly anything, and expects you to figure things out for yourself and to contend with being ignorantly frustrated over things you can't possibly learn until the game teaches them to you several hours later. 

A pretty simple tutorial, one of the few ones in existence. 

And let me tell you, there's an overwhelming amount of stuff to figure out in this game, in terms of why this stuff is in the game, how it works, and what its significance is supposed to be: hunting down ithildin and artifacts, completing survival and hunting challenges, the three different stats (experience, power, and mirian) for leveling up and getting stronger, unlocking abilities, the difference between ranger and wraith abilities, the difference between being in ranger mode or wraith mode, runes for weapons, unlocking rune slots for weapons, focus, elf-shot, restoring focus and elf-shot, the whole Nemesis system (captains, attributes, power rankings, strengths and weaknesses) random captain events, gaining intelligence, the difference between draining, interrogating, branding, dominating, and commanding uruks, taming different types of beasts, freeing slaves, spawning and triggering side-missions, plus the dozens of input combinations for stealth, combat, ranged, special abilities, executions, assassinations, finishers, blocking, dodging, stunning, charging, and so on. You're not bombarded with quite all of this at the start, but you're exposed to most of it with little to no explanation.

The controls may be the worst offender of the above list, as they get progressively more and more convoluted to the point where one button can do five different things depending on what stance you're in, the status of the enemy unit, and what your combo chain is at. It's already bad at the start of the game, when RB is both "grab enemy" and "use/interact" (making it impossible to pick something up if there's an enemy nearby) and A is all of run/jump/climb/dodge, but as you unlock abilities it gets to a point where you press a button expecting Talion to do one thing, and he ends up doing something completely different. If you're stealthily shimmying along a ledge and want to drop down a few feet to another ledge, you might drop down a few feet and grab onto the lower ledge or launch into a leaping stealth drain on an uruk 60 feet below you that you didn't even realize you were targeting. You might also be stealthily trying to run along the rooftops and be intending to jump onto a tightrope running from one roof to another and instead find Talion doing a swan dive down to ground level in the middle of the group of uruks you were trying to avoid.

It's equally frustrating how there seems to be an infinite stream of orcs spawning around you and moving in towards your position at all times. I've already alluded to the insane respawn rate, where you can kill an entire cave of uruks and find them all respawned mere seconds later, but this same thing happens with captains you think you've killed, who then show up to ambush you again five minutes later. There's just, in general, so much random crap going on at all times with random orc spawns and patrols that you try to do one, simple thing like grab an artifact or eat a plant and get stuck fighting hordes of uruks. I remember one time I was just trying to kill one captain for an event, and had five other captains spawn on top of me, each with their own entourage of minions, while a thousand more grunts continuously streamed in from nowhere because of the active stronghold alarm. And it's just such a pain in the ass trying to pick up runes dropped by dead captains, or interrogate orcs, or command captains, or anything like that in those situations because either the controls won't let you do what you want, or there's always another uruk present to interrupt your actions, since all of that stuff takes seconds at a time to do.

Lurking on the shore, working towards my objective markers. 

After a while, I just got tired of it all. I hated the game at first, but as I gave it more time it started to grow on me until I found myself hooked by how satisfying it was swooping along rooftops and descending on unsuspecting uruks for brutal stealth kills and finishing off a platoon of reinforcements through clever manipulation of the environment. The varied mission objectives and new abilities kept the game fresh for a while, but by the midpoint it became somewhat routine. I still had no reason to care about the main character, or the story, or the world itself, and really all I was doing was finding new variations on killing orcs. Seriously, this may as well be called Killing Orcs: The Game. The Nemesis system seemed like such a cool idea at first, but once I'd gotten the hang of the game and gotten a little stronger, the system stopped having any kind of real effect on me, and once I got to the second map and found out there was a whole separate Nemesis system in place for a whole separate army, I just said "no thanks, I don't want to start all over again with a new army" and stopped caring. I maxed out all my skills and abilities well before the end of the game, which meant I stopped caring about completing side-missions or optional objectives because the rewards were worthless to me. And let's not even get into the fact that the final boss is a goddamn quick-time-event. 

When all is said and done, Shadow of Mordor is a good game with a lot of interesting ideas and solid mechanical execution of its gameplay. Unfortunately, once you dig past that appealing surface (or rather, get past the overwhelming, tedious start of the game, and then get past the fun part when the game starts making sense), you find that there's really not much substance beneath the flashy top layer of its packaging. The open world is completely pointless, the Nemesis system loses its luster way too quickly, uruks are all mindless cannon fodder waiting to die, missions and things stop rewarding you after a while, and there's no reason to care about the story or the characters. There's a lot of stuff going on and a lot of stuff to do in this game, but it all essentially amounts to killing orcs over and over again for 20-30 hours. There's a lot of quality polish and solid mechanical systems in place, but there's no soul beneath it, no spark or touch of humanity to make it worthwhile. It could've been great, but the end result is a game that's just a little bit better than average, and ultimately still kind of disappointing. 
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