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Resident Evil 7: "Survival-Horror's Back, Baby!"

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I used to consider myself a fan of the Resident Evil series, from the slow-paced adventure-style gameplay of the originals to the stronger action focus of the fourth main installment. But ever since Resident Evil 5, which I found to be an underwhelming letdown, I've found myself cynically jaded by the barrage of sequels and spin-offs to have been churned out by the grand corporate machine. Revelations seemed promising, but ended up subtly disappointing me on every front. I never even bothered with Resident Evil 6, and I was super skeptical of Resident Evil 7 at first. Claiming that it was taking heavy inspiration from the series' roots while adding a modernized twist on the classic formula (in the form of the first-person perspective, a series first), I was a little worried that it was going to be just another haunted house jump-scare simulator with little in the way of actual gameplay.

It certainly seemed that way for the first 30 minutes, but once I got past that introduction sequence and starting exploring the main part of the game, it really started to shine, and I realized: this is the most Resident Evil-feeling game I've played in a long, long time. It really does capture that old-school vibe of exploring a spooky house, searching for convoluted keys to ridiculously locked doors and solving puzzles to progress, while managing a limited supply of ammunition and healing items, and occasionally fighting or running away from enemies. A handful of boss battles cause the intensity to spike periodically, but Resident Evil 7 is much more of a true survival-horror game than an action shooter, despite the "innovative" first-person shooter perspective, which I might add actually does a lot for the game's atmosphere and immersion.

Resident Evil 7 begins with its protagonist, Ethan Thomas Winters, driving deep into the Louisiana bayou after receiving an email from his wife, Mia, who's been missing and presumed dead for three years. The message reads simply: "Dulvey, Lousiana. Baker farm. Come get me." Upon arriving at the Baker estate, Ethan finds the main gate locked, and has to make a trek around the swamp to enter the guest house through the backdoor, where he finds Mia locked in a cell in the basement. After rescuing her, Mia turns on him, seemingly possessed by some malevolent entity, and attacks him, first with a knife and then with a chainsaw. Ethan is forced to kill Mia -- twice, apparently -- but gets his hand sawed off in the process. He's then knocked out by the head of the household, Jack Baker, who welcomes him to the family as Ethan passes out. During fleeting moments of consciousness, he sees his hand reattached to his arm, and then wakes up tied to a chair having a grotesque, cannibalistic dinner with the Baker family. The rest of the game is about Ethan trying to escape from the Baker estate while finding a way to cure Mia.

Being attacked by Psycho-Mia in the Guest House.

The story is one of the main things that sets Resident Evil 7 apart from other recent entries in the series. This isn't a typical Resident Evil plot about saving the world from a viral outbreak, or stopping a villainous shadow corporation's nefarious plans. It's a very simple, down-to-earth scenario about a guy trying to meet up with his presumed-dead wife and getting trapped in a creepy house by a murderous family. Even though you should intuitively know right off the bat that there's more going on in the Baker household than what's readily apparent, the main setup is a much more personal story that's grounded in reality, which makes it easier to become immersed in the story and setting, and also easier to care about the main character and what he's trying to accomplish, even if his portrayal sometimes misses the mark.

Ethan has elements of being a silent protagonist -- you spend most of the game exploring the house by yourself, and so Ethan rarely talks or reacts to anything happening around him, thus allowing you to inject your own emotion into the majority of scenarios without clashing with the player character -- but he also talks whenever another character interacts with him. Capcom strikes a good balance between talking and silence, but I never grew to appreciate Ethan as a character. He has no personality and we never learn anything about his background or his relationship with Mia, so he's essentially just Protagonist-Man the entire game. Which is totally fine -- again, that makes it easier to put yourself in his shoes and become the main character yourself -- but it took me a little while to gel with him, because Ethan's behavior during the heavily-scripted 30-minute introduction sequence kept feeling totally at odds with what he should be doing or what I would be doing.

When you're forced to kill Mia that first time, it's meant to be emotionally shocking; you plunge a hatchet into her neck, her face turns back to normal, and then she gives you a sad look before collapsing on the floor. And Ethan makes no reaction whatsoever to the fact that he just (apparently) killed his own wife. I felt enough emotion as the player in that scenario that he didn't need to say anything to convey the emotional impact of the scene, but if you're going to give the protagonist a voice and let his desire to reunite with his wife be the motivating factor in getting into this game, then he really needs to say something in that moment. Soon after, a sheriff's deputy shows up outside the house, and while asking for help Ethan does everything in his power to sound as suspicious as possible. Not once does he say "these people kidnapped my wife and are now holding me hostage here too, and oh by the way they might be murderous psychopathic cannibals."

Dinner with the Baker family; Granny's off-camera to the left.

The Baker family, meanwhile, serve as really strong antagonists who also add a lot to the story as it progresses. Instead of sitting somewhere off-screen the whole game as theoretical threats that have to be stopped, they're constantly showing up to try to kill your or block your progress. You have recurring encounters with them and interact with them directly through actual gameplay, which makes their presence in the game feel genuinely threatening any time they show up, and lets you develop that personal, antagonistic relationship with them. I also like the fact that they're just regular, ordinary people (who happen to have been infected by something that gives them regenerative powers while perhaps also driving them slightly mad), as opposed to the cartoon-ish super villains the series has been known for. They feel more like real people you can actually relate to when they tell you they like being immortal and don't want to go back to the way things were.

The game seems to take a lot of influences from other horror media -- the premise of receiving a message from your long-dead wife about meeting somewhere is straight out of Silent Hill 2, the dinner scene is straight out of The Texas Chainsaw Massacre (complete with a vegetative, elderly relative seated at the table), the slow movement speed and first-person melee combat reminded me a bit of Condemned: Criminal Origins, the setting (an old mansion, owned by a mysterious family in the Louisiana bayou, with story elements relating to possession) kept giving me flashbacks to The Skeleton Key, and driving up to a building and being led down a linear path through scripted jump-scares felt too much like Outlast for my taste) -- all of which is much more prominent up front than the classic Resident Evil influence, which doesn't manifest itself until an hour or more into the game when you finally start getting some freedom to explore the mansion.

Resident Evil 7 really does feel a lot like the original Resident Evil, but of course with the brand new first-person perspective and some modern streamlining. A lot of it has to do with the level design, with the Baker estate branching out in all directions as you find keys and solve puzzles to unlock new areas. The main house lies at the center of the map, and through the yard you can connect to the rotting old house, the green house, the barn, and the boat house. With the exception of the guest house, which you only access during the intro sequence, you have permanent access to all areas of the Baker estate as you unlock them, meaning it's always possible (and sometimes necessary) to backtrack to previous areas, at virtually any time. You might, for instance, need an item from the green house to unlock the second floor of the old house, or an item from the basement of the main house to reach the attic. As you gain keys, you might also remember that you can backtrack to unlock optional areas for extra rewards before pressing forward in the game.

Fighting a molded in the main hall of the Baker house.

You're constantly running into usable things in the environment that you just can't use yet, which creates a pretty engaging desire to figure out how to use those things, and it becomes really satisfying when you finally get a key to a door that's been locked and inaccessible for the last several hours, or when you find a weird figurine and realize that it's the missing piece to the shadow puzzle in the main hall. One of my favorite moments was when I found a repair kit in a hidden area of the house, and remembered that I had used a broken shotgun to weigh down the pressure plate to get the regular shotgun out of the locked chamber, and that if I was willing to go back and swap the regular shotgun for the broken one, I could repair it and presumably get a stronger shotgun. These sort of things aren't really puzzles -- for the most part, you're just bringing an item from one location to another to gain another item or to unlock a door -- but you still have to make the connection between what items go where and also remember where everything is, which requires at least some logic and thus feels sufficiently rewarding most of the time.

Despite the close resemblance to the original Resident Evil, there aren't a lot of actual puzzles in Resident Evil 7, and the few that exist can barely be called puzzles. If my memory is correct, I count seven puzzles that aren't just "bring item here," that require you to actually do something to solve the puzzle. Four of these are shadow puzzles, where you have to rotate an object in a beam of light to form the right shadow on the wall. A neat idea, but there's an outline on the wall that shows exactly what you're aiming for; I would've preferred some sort of riddle and for the player to figure out what the shape is supposed to be on their own. Another puzzle involves setting the hands on a clock to the right time, but the solution is written on a piece of paper literally right next to it, so there's absolutely no deduction or logic involved. Again, it would've been nice to solve a riddle or find some pattern in the environment. Then there's a puzzle where you have to rotate paintings on one wall so that they match the orientation of matching paintings on another wall, which again is really shallow and takes zero effort or thought to solve.

Not sure I can make a swooping hawk shape with this herb.

So in the entire game, there's only one actual puzzle, which takes the form of an Escape Room in an almost Saw-esque torture chamber. The premise is that you're locked in an area with a couple of small rooms and have to figure out how to light the candles on a birthday cake. The solution involves an entire series of actions that have to be done (mostly) in a certain order, and for once the game doesn't offer you any hints -- it's entirely on you to solve the puzzle. Like other "puzzles" in the game, this one suffers a bit from typical adventure game logic (there's only one way to sever the rope sealing the one door shut, when in reality there should be several valid options just based on what's lying around the room), but I thought it was a really good moment that challenged me to think outside the box, and it stood out as one of the most memorable sequences of the game.

That's a real accomplishment, because every single area in this game is full of memorable setpieces. Each area has its own unique theming and tends to introduce some kind of new gameplay mechanism, whether it be a new type of enemy, a new weapon, special encounters with different family members, or a complete shift in tone. The old house features a bunch of giant bugs and insect swarms, and requires you to assemble the flamethrower to destroy their nests so that you can navigate the lower floor more easily. The second floor of the old house is a straight up haunted house with weird, creepy stuff going on and the occasional jump scare. The testing area and barn are like an obstacle course filled with traps that make you nervous with every step you take. And each room within these areas has something unique and interesting going on; when I replayed the game, I found myself vividly remembering each and every room as I stepped into it: "an enemy is going to spawn right there; the item I need is in the bathtub; I need to do this to unlock the thing."

If I have one complaint about the level design, it's that the areas in the second half of the game aren't as interesting as those in the first half. Lucas's section in the testing area and barn felt particularly underwhelming; you see the area from outside for several hours before gaining access to it, and you see all these red and blue strobe lights, day-glo paint splattered everywhere, and hear loud, pounding dance music. It seems like you're going to be entering a rave where the loud music and flashing lights will make it hard to hear and see enemies coming for you, but then you get in there and it's just a bunch of drab, boring storage rooms. Then you get to the barn and it doesn't really feel like a barn. The abandoned ship (which comes after the game's Point of No Return, when you leave the Baker estate) has a lot of really cool gameplay elements going on, but it's kind of hard to get excited about walking around metal hallways and bulkheads, and the subsequent salt mine is just a bunch of gray tunnels with occasional mining equipment lying around.

The catwalks behind the old house up against the swamp.

If I have two complaints about the level design, it's that there's really only one route through the entire game. The game allows for plenty of possibilities for backtracking to do things in optional rooms for extra rewards, but the main things you have to do to advance in the game all have to be done in a very specific order, every time you play the game. You have to get the keys and crawl under the house, then you have to do the garage fight, then you have to go upstairs and get the shadow puzzle piece, then you have to go through the secret tunnel to reach the basement, and so on. It would've been cool, I feel, if there had been a few moments when the main route forked in two or three directions, and you could choose what order to complete the different forks. It's not a knock against the game, but it does feel like Capcom missed an opportunity to make exploration even better than it already is.

The atmosphere, though, is so strong in this game. The lighting, shadows, focus, everything does such a good job of bringing that first-person perspective to life. The range of the flashlight, the way it casts the screen in a sort of vignette, and the way enemies and pieces of the environment move into the light and into focus as you move around is really eerie; I can only imagine how immersive that opening sequence with Mia coming straight at you with the knife would be in virtual reality. In terms of textures and art style, the Baker house feels genuinely grimy and rotten just by the way everything looks. There's a lot of top-notch ambient sound as well; leaves rustling, crickets chirping, grass compressing under your footsteps, brushing up against vegetation, the wind picking up for a moment and howling through the trees, the occasional shutter slamming against the house in the wind, thunder in the distance, trash rustling, wind chimes, then the occasional shriek or something weird off in the distance. This is all stuff you hear just walking around the back yard. You're always buried under a constant layer of ambient noises, which creates this sensation that there's always something going on around you.

Any other requests while we're at it?

I wouldn't say the game is overtly scary, but then again nothing ever really scares me in video games anymore. That being said, it definitely sets up good moods where spooky stuff is going on, which instilled a feeling of dread in me that something bad was going to happen. You're about to play a piano and the cover slides down on its own; later on there's another piano and you hear someone plinking random notes on it, but when you go to check it out there's no one there. Grandma keeps randomly showing up places, silently staring at you as you walk around. A ball comes randomly bouncing into the kid's room from off camera, or toy dolls fall out of the ceiling. This stuff is all weird and creepy in its own right, but coupled with the survival mechanics of conserving health and supplies with the constant threat of enemies around possibly every corner, or even having them ambush you suddenly, really makes you fear for your well-being in the game.

Instead of a zombie virus or a parasitic plague, the enemies in Resident Evil 7 are the result of a fungus-like bacteria that spreads through the body eating cells. The enemies you fight, called molded, are people whose bodies have been completely taken over by the mold, or are separate manifestations created by the mold itself. They behave like zombies, however; they're all mindless drones that slowly lumber toward you and try to slash at you. Some of them are basic versions, others have a big spiky arm with special, extra-devastating attacks, others run on all fours and leap long distances, others are taller fatsos that spew bile at you. These enemies, in proper survival-horror fashion, are used sparingly; in the span of an hour, you might only fight 8-10 molded, which is enough for you to feel threatened by every enemy you encounter without shifting the focus away from exploration and puzzle-solving.

I see a little silhouetto of some mold.

The combat is functional, but surprisingly difficult for how slow and methodical it is. You basically need to aim for headshots at all times, and although the enemies don't move very fast, they move just unpredictably enough by wobbling awkwardly, attacking unexpectedly, lurching forward when you think they're not going to, and so on, that you can feel like you've got a perfect headshot lined up and quickly miss two or three shots and fall into a panic as an enemy's suddenly in your face clawing at you. When that happens, you can press a button to block enemy attacks (if you time the block correctly, you'll negate a ton damage) and/or whip out your trusty knife and slash at the molded's face. Over the course of the game you get access to a couple of 9mm pistols, a couple of shotguns, a flamethrower, a grenade launcher, a sub machine gun, remote bombs, and a 44 magnum.

That may seem like a lot of firepower, but Resident Evil 7 brings back an emphasis on inventory management, meaning you can only carry so many weapons and so much ammunition (in addition to other things like healing items, keys, and puzzle items) at a time. Inventory space becomes even tighter if you decide to replay the game, because each upgrade that you unlock (walking shoes for faster movement, the secrets of survival guide that decreases damage received when you block, x-ray glasses that pinpoint where all the items are, and so on) all take up inventory space, so if you want to be super-powered Ethan you end up filling most of your inventory slots with those upgrades, which makes it harder to carry things like ammunition and healing items because you still need to fill inventory slots with keys and puzzle items. While the inventory system is not as much of a fun, elaborate puzzle as Resident Evil 4's, it gets the job done by forcing you to weigh pros and cons of what items and equipment you choose to take with you, and what you leave behind.

Curses. Foiled again by carrying too many keys and puzzle items.

Scattered throughout the game are hidden antique coins, which function like a currency for buying upgrades from bird cages at the central save point in the yard. By spending three coins you can buy a permanent upgrade to your maximum health; with five coins you can buy a permanent increase to your reload speed; and for nine coins you can buy the 44 magnum. These coins are sometimes found lying around in obvious places, but a lot of times they're hidden much more discreetly, like behind a picture frame leaning against a wall, or inside of a tall, narrow vase, so it behooves you to be thorough in your exploration. It's kind of disappointing, though, that there are are only three upgrades to buy with the coins; I feel like it would've been nice to have some more options. In addition to coins, you can find "Mr Everywhere" bobblehead dolls scattered throughout the game; these, by themselves, are worthless, but if you can find and destroy all 20 then you'll unlock bonus equipment for future playthroughs.

Although the game adheres pretty closely to the traditional "old school" survival-horror formula, I feel like supplies are a little too easy to come by. You're almost always free to avoid combat by running past an enemy (except for bosses, you must fight and kill bosses), which is a classic strategy for conserving ammunition and not risking damage by getting into a fight, but that can make it harder to explore and loot the area, and you have to remember that there's an enemy there if you ever return to that spot. But there's enough ammo plentifully available in Resident Evil 7 that you can kill every enemy in sight and still wind up with more ammunition than you can carry. There's exactly one section of the game where you basically have to avoid enemies because you lose your entire inventory, and it's easily the scariest, most tense section of the game because you have to scrounge for weapons and ammo and can't afford to fight most enemies you come by. Basically, I miss that feeling of the original games, of having only four bullets to kill five zombies.

Then again, the bosses are such bullet-sponge tanks that you really do need all that ammo just to fight them. Each boss feels incredibly unique, tense, and exciting, but it can get repetitive spending 5-10 minutes pumping lead into their weak spots and feeling like you're making no progress whatsoever, because they just keep regenerating and coming back to fight you. This gave me false feedback in some of the earlier fights; I thought I was doing something wrong, which led me to waste a bunch of time and effort trying different things when I was apparently on the right track from the beginning, but had no way of knowing that I just needed to keep doing what I was doing another several dozens times to win. The bosses need to have a ton of health and soak up a ton of damage in order to feel like the powerful, massive threats that they are and to make the fights feel drawn-out and exasperating for both you and your character (they definitely succeed at all of that), but they sometimes got to feel more tedious or annoying than fun.

One of the bosses in the game, a hideous blog of fungal mass.

The campaign lasts roughly 9-12 hours, but it feels much longer than that because the game is so methodically-paced with that slow-mounting survival-horror tension. It took me closer to 20 hours to complete my first playthrough because I was being so thorough exploring every inch of every room for hidden loot, being super cautious when advancing to new areas, and having to replay some of the bosses and harder sequences multiple times. There's a ton of replay value, too; when you beat the game for the first time you unlock the Madhouse difficulty, which brings back the limited save system from the originals where you need to spend cassette tapes (instead of ink ribbons) every time you save your game, while also rearranging the item and enemy placement for a slightly different gameplay experience. Plus, you can unlock special upgrades for beating the game on Madhouse, completing a speedrun in under four hours, and for finding and destroying all 20 of the hidden bobbleheads; these unlocks give you fancy new weapons and statistical boosts that apply to all save files and all playthroughs.

I had so much fun with Resident Evil 7 that I ended up playing through it five times in a row (once on Normal, once on Madhouse, once on an Easy mode speedrun, and once each on Easy and Madhouse to find all the antique coins in each mode) en route to completing 100% of the achievements. Any criticism I can offer would be somewhat nitpicky, but I do feel like Capcom could've done a lot more with the puzzles, and made the game a little bit harder by cutting down on the amount of ammo in the game and by not being quite so generous with the constant autosaves and unlimited manual saving. Besides that, the second half of the game isn't quite as good as the first -- it's not bad by any means, but the first half is so good that the second half just doesn't live up to expectation -- and so I wish they could've done something more interesting with Lucas's section and the salt mine.

Otherwise, everything else in this game is so on point, so masterfully executed that Resident Evil 7 is easily the best first-person survival-horror game that I've played since Amnesia: The Dark Descent, and it's one of the best horror games in general that I've played in the last ten years. I haven't had this much fun playing a Resident Evil game since Resident Evil 4, and I think Resident Evil 7 may, with time, surpass REmake as my favorite Resident Evil game. I had given up hope that Capcom would ever go back to the slower, more classic style of the original games, but they did, and they pulled it off pretty well with Resident Evil 7. I hope we get more games like this from them in the future, and I'm looking forward to playing the DLC when it comes out.

SOMA Review: Somewhere Beyond the Sea

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"From the creators of Amnesia: The Dark Descent comes SOMA, a sci-fi horror game set below the waves of the Atlantic ocean. Struggle to survive a hostile world that will make you question your very existence." That's the product description on Steam, which labels SOMA specifically as a horror game, and even goes so far as to imply that it's not just horror -- it's survival-horror. That's kind of misleading, I feel, because SOMA really feels more like an adventure game first and foremost. The story is clearly the main point of emphasis, with you spending the bulk of the game learning about what happened to the doomed crew of the futuristic underwater research station, Pathos-II, and solving light puzzles to progress. The horror elements are definitely there -- a few monsters show up to impede your progress, and there are some good scripted scares and moments of genuine tension -- but the horror in SOMA is really more of a theme than a core gameplay mechanism.

You play as Simon Jarrett, a man suffering from a traumatic brain injury as the result of a car crash. The game begins with you agreeing to meet a researcher to take part in an experimental brain scan for a developing technology that he thinks might be able to help. You sit down to perform the brain scan, your vision goes black, and then suddenly you find yourself in another place, surrounded by metal walls and high tech computer terminals. It's dark, and there's blood on the floor. A few dive suits hang in the nearby corner. No one else seems to be around. You stumble upon a call log, in which two people talk about sealing the doors to keep "them" out and making sure everything is set to run on standby for when they evacuate. The rest of the game is a matter of finding out what this place is, what happened to it, how you got there, and how you can get back home -- if you even can at all.

SOMA plays a lot like a typical adventure game; most of what you do in the game consists of exploring different environments trying to figure out where to go or what to do next, while solving light puzzles and piecing the story together from clues found in the environment. You read journals, data entries, personal notes, and system messages; you listen to audio logs, phone conversations, and black box-style recordings of the moments before people die; you see signs, posters, and video clips on the walls and video screens; you see the corpses of people who died mid-action and the monsters created by the artificial intelligence that's now running the station. This is environmental storytelling done right, with a variety of different ways to parse the history of Pathos-II, with every important detail and reveal set up by some type of visual or verbal clue before you encounter it.

What the hell is this place? How did I get here?

The story in SOMA deals with a lot philosophical science fiction subjects like identity, consciousness, existence, artificial intelligence, and what it means to be human. Playing SOMA kept making me feel like I was inside a classic science fiction novel, which may have been exactly what the designers were going for considering they open the game with a quote from Philip K Dick: "Reality is that which, when you stop believing in it, doesn't go away." There's a lot of stuff to wrap your brain around, but most of it's hidden away in computer logs and such, and so the game requires effort on your part to both find and interpret all of its details. That can make the story really engaging if you're into those sorts of subjects, or if you find yourself sucked into the game's world and just want to learn more about it, but that also means it can be a little dense and difficult to play sometimes. I, for instance, ended up playing SOMA alongside three other games and sometimes struggled to get back into it after playing something else for a while.

A lot of the game's philosophy and science fiction come into play by making you think about typical science fiction questions. For example, if you clone someone's consciousness to a new body and then kill one of them, does that count as murder? If you put a human brain into a robot body -- humanoid or not --  is that person still human? If you could scan someone's brain and create a perfect computer simulation of that person in a virtual world, would that person be human? The game never asks these questions directly; rather, you ask yourself these kinds of questions when the game puts you in difficult situations where you have to make decisions about what to do in order to progress, or when it gives you the choice to do things for the sake of others or what you think is right. It's one of the best implementations of moral choice I've seen in a video game; although every major decision is a binary choice, there's a valid reason for choosing every option, which really makes you think.

Early on while you're exploring Pathos-II, you start to encounter talking robots, many of which are in a state of disrepair. The robots seem like utility workers that the staff would pilot remotely to do work outside, in the water, but the first one you meet insists that he's human, lying on the floor right in front of you, but that he's injured and needs a doctor. Immediately, the game presents you with a situation where you have very little idea of what's going on, and no idea what to believe. Soon after, you discover that you need to redirect power in the area to get somewhere you need to go, and you have two options: one will send the power through a conduit that Carl "The Human Robot" Semkin is currently hooked up to and will put him through constant, excruciating pain, and the other will disable all power in the area, permanently, effectively killing him. What do you do?

Meeting Carl "The Human Robot" Semkin.

Is it better that Carl be kept "alive" even if he's in pain and miserable, to also keep the other systems in the area running, or do you take the more merciful route that will let him "die" in peace, but shut the entire system down? I initially opted for the first route, figuring he's just a robot and he's in denial, that it wouldn't matter if I put some more electricity through a robot. But when I pulled the lever and heard Carl start screaming, I freaked out. "Holy crap, that sounds like a real person in real pain," I thought. Whether Carl was a real person or merely a robot who thinks he's human, I couldn't put him through that kind of pain. I flipped the lever back, and chose to sacrifice the entire area, Carl included, just so he wouldn't have to suffer.

Later on, you reach a point when you realize the only way forward is to transfer your consciousness into a new body. It's not until after the process is complete and you "wake up" in the new body that you realize you didn't transfer your consciousness -- you cloned your consciousness. The old you is sitting there in the other chair, still unconscious, and will have to be left behind. The game gives you a choice: do you kill your old self, or let him live? The old you didn't realize you were cloning your consciousness, so if you leave him alive, he's going to wake up several days later and be trapped there all by himself, wondering why the procedure failed and why your friend (who's been helping you get around Pathos-II) has disappeared. Do you leave him there to go insane and die a slow, rotting death by himself, on the chance that maybe he'll be able to survive, or let him die in his sleep and save him from that torment? Besides that, how do you feel about there being two of you running around in the same universe? It was such a hard decision for me, and I appreciated how it got me thinking about things from multiple perspectives.

Configuring a communications antenna. 

When you're not grappling with moral dilemmas or digging around for information on the story, you're typically solving puzzles to progress. Every now and then these take the form of actual abstract puzzles in computer interfaces -- the type of deal where you have to find the right pattern, or connect the dots in the right sequence -- but for the most part you're doing things in the environment to get different sections of the different stations working so that you can get to other areas. You might need a special tool to operate a certain piece of machinery, which requires you to find the tool, then repair the machine yourself, then operate it correctly, with each of those steps involving its own sub-series of puzzles. Sometimes the puzzles are as simple as smashing a window with a fire extinguisher and climbing through it when you realize the door's broken, or realizing that, when a computer terminal won't turn on, it's because it's unplugged and you just need to plug it back in.

It's not always clear what you're supposed to be doing in a given situation, however, when you're not solving an obvious puzzle. There's an awful lot of wandering along the only available path until you find a button with a glowing light and pressing it. You don't always know what the button does or why you should press it -- there's no context, no reason for it -- you just press it because you know you're in a video game and you need to do something to advance the game. When the game tells you to find a wrecked ship nearby, you don't have any idea where you're going or what you're doing, you just set out and walk the only direction the game will let you, until you eventually stumble into it and wonder "Oh, is this the ship? I think I'm supposed to go over here? Maybe?" And you just go places and do things until you find the one thing that will let the game advance.

I'm just trying to look at this map. Please don't murder me. 

Unlike its predecessor, Amnesia: The Dark Descent, SOMA doesn't feature a true inventory system, resource management, healing items, or sanity meters. As such, it doesn't really qualify as a survival-horror game because the act of surviving is barely present in the actual gameplay. Monsters show up at various points of the game, and they can possibly kill you if you're not careful, but they feel more like obstacles there simply to impede your progress. With a few exceptions, they're not really scary; in many cases, they just feel annoying.

There's no combat system in SOMA, so when an enemy appears you need to avoid it. Different types of monsters behave a little differently; one is blind but has really good hearing, so you need to be careful about making noise, and throw objects to distract it away from you, while another becomes more alert and aggressive if you look at it. But for the most part, you mainly just have to crouch and stay behind cover to avoid most enemies; if you get caught, run away and try to close a door behind you or break line of sight and find a hiding spot. Horror games have been doing this for years, and it worked fine in Amnesia, but I find the stealth gameplay in SOMA more of a nuisance than a fun, engaging, or tense challenge.

There's no real consequence for getting caught, for instance, except that the game becomes literally unpleasant to play. If a monster catches you it damages you and then wanders off a short distance; the damage causes you to move more slowly with an exaggerated head-bobbing limp, and also blurs and doubles your vision, which puts a heavy strain on your eyes in real life. You can get caught another one or two times before dying, at which point the game just restarts you from the autosave right before the monster encounter -- no big loss. You can heal by finding what basically amounts to a first aid station; these are usually present before and after every monster encounter, and at random other intervals when you couldn't possibly need one, so there's never any risk of being low on health and low on resources, struggling to survive and hoping you can make it to the end, because the tension only exists during the encounters themselves.

Creeping through the corridors of the wrecked ship.

The actual gameplay involved in avoiding enemies is usually pretty boring, too, with you often sitting there with your hands off the controls doing absolutely nothing, just waiting for the monster to give up looking for you or to wander off in some other direction so that you can get where you need to go. As I played, I found myself far more interested in the story -- learning what happened to Pathos-II and exploring the game's philosophical subject matter -- which made the monster encounters feel like they were just getting in-between me and the fun, interesting part of the game.

That's not to say the game isn't tense or scary -- it's just more subtle than a lot of other horror games. The horror in SOMA stems more from the implications of the story and the immersive atmosphere it creates than it does from traditional survival-horror resource management or jump-scares (although there are a few well-executed instances of the latter). As others have written before, SOMA is arguably scarier when the monsters aren't around because the story and atmosphere create such a strong feeling of dread and anticipation of what could happen that you get nervous venturing into uncharted territory and panic when things start to happen around you. When the monsters show up, it starts to feel a little too "video gamey," with a lot of encounters calling their design mechanics to attention as you notice things in the level design obviously intended to service the stealth system, and think about the enemies in terms of their AI and how to exploit their parameters.

The scariest part of the game has nothing to do with the monsters (of which there are extremely few), but rather the environment itself. In the game's climax, you descend into the abyss, the deepest part of the ocean floor bathed in complete darkness. The atmosphere there is hellishly oppressive with your vision so limited and what feels like a storm raging all around you from the currents rushing past you and the distant booming of underwater seismic activity. You know from computer logs that there's aggressive, mutated sea life down there, and you start to worry about what horrors lie in wait just beyond the range of the lampposts that are guiding you to the next outpost. There's a genuine sense of dread as you go deeper and further into the abyss, as the lights become dimmer and further apart and you start to feel more and more vulnerable. Some of the game's best scripted moments occur during this sequence, and they're among the most terrifying, effective scares I've ever experienced in a horror game.

Heading for Tau station in the abyss. 

That puts SOMA in kind of a weird position where it's not very scary most of the time, but knows how to be really effective when it wants to be, while occasionally missing the mark by perhaps trying to be a little too much like Amnesia with its patrolling monster encounters. Although the monsters have a strong thematic link to the story, I'm not sure their gameplay execution fits with the rest of the game design. Perhaps if SOMA played more like a survival-horror game instead of the horror-adventure game that it really is, they would work, but as it is I felt like they detracted from the overall gameplay experience and didn't add good enough horror elements to make up for getting in the way of the story progression.

The horror theme and atmosphere are present throughout the entire game, mind you, but the story and the underwater atmosphere are the two main reasons SOMA is worth playing. The environmental storytelling is top notch, the philosophical sci-fi premise is truly thought-provoking, and the atmosphere is incredibly immersive. It's a fairly decent horror game with some really good moments in it, but some of the horror elements feel tacked-on, which is somewhat ironic for a developer known exclusively for making good horror games. That's partly a knock on the game design itself, but it's mainly a knock on the advertising, which hyped up SOMA based largely on the esteem of Amnesia: The Dark Descent, when really, Frictional were trying to do something a little bit different with SOMA. It's a solid game and it's definitely worth playing; just don't go in expecting another Amnesia.

Serious Sam Sucks. Seriously.

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Serious Sam hails from 2001 and alleges to be a no-nonsense, to-the-point action shooter that's simply about mowing down hordes of enemies with a full arsenal of machine guns, shotguns, and explosives while frantically running around spacious ancient Egyptian levels collecting armor, health, and ammo drops and searching for hidden secrets for extra powerups. The series is often mentioned on message boards as being one of the best 90s-style arena-shooters ever made, with people absolutely loving it for its frenetic, over-the-top action. I have a fondness for these types of games, with Doom, Painkiller, and Ziggurat ranking among my favorite FPS games. I also remember enjoying Duke Nukem 3D and Shadow Warrior back in the day, though I never finished them and haven't played either one in almost 20 years.

I went into Serious Sam: The First Encounter (as part of the Classics: Revolution version, available on Steam Early Access) fully expecting to enjoy it, based on a combination of its esteemed reputation and my appreciation for this style of game. I started out thinking "this is pretty good," but as I got further into the game it started to annoy me, and after a while I started to actively dislike it. After completing nine of its thirteen levels, I just have no desire to continue playing it any longer. The game is too tedious and repetitive to be fun, for me, and there's nothing inspiring about its weaponry or level design. Despite the promise of bombastic, over-the-top action and all-around whimsical silliness, the game feels bland to me, and it doesn't feel worth the hassle for me to push forward just to finish it.

Each level in Serious Sam is basically a series of closed arenas where enemies spawn in waves from all directions, and you have to kill every last enemy before the doors will open and allow you to advance to the next area to do it all over again. Sometimes these are huge, spacious areas with a hundred or more enemies pouring in towards you; other times you're going through much smaller rooms and corridors in a temple where enemies ambush you from around every corner. There are about a dozen different types of enemy, and each one has its own unique movement and attack patterns. The variety from fight to fight stems from going up against unique compositions of enemy waves where you have to be aware of all different things going on around you and prioritize your targets while balancing offense and defense.

Getting bumped into the air by a werebull. 

This type of gameplay can be a lot of fun because of the high demand it puts on the player; Serious Sam is a tough, challenging game that demands a high skill level to beat. There's a lot of constant running around, changing directions, weaving in and out of enemies, jumping, rapidly switching between attacking and assessing your surroundings, switching targets -- you're always doing two or three things every single second, and so there are hundreds of opportunities to make mistakes in every single fight, and the game doesn't leave a lot of room for error. Beating Serious Sam, especially on its higher difficulties, is not just about being good at first person shooters; it involves developing a skill at this particular game, learning the intricacies of how all the different enemies work together so you can figure out what to do in each situation to survive as efficiently as possible.

But really, it's mostly a matter of trial-and-error, playing through a section enough times so that you can know what's going to spawn when and where so that you can be in the right position with the right weapon equipped, and strategically quick-saving between critical spawns. It's also a game of inches, with enemy spawns triggering as you cross certain thresholds in a level, like walking through a door, turning a corner, or picking up a health drop. Every single step you take causes enemies to ambush you from multiple directions, usually from behind; if you start running around too frantically you're liable to wander into multiple spawn triggers and get yourself overwhelmed, so you're generally better off slowly inching forward until you trigger a spawn and then retreating to fight everything in safe territory.

There could be an enemy in every one of those alcoves. 

Serious Sam begs to be played like a fast-paced run-and-gun arena shooter, and indeed it delivers on this promise -- about half the time. When you're in those huge wide-open arenas like the Dunes, for instance, there's a lot of fun to be had frantically running around dodging enemy attacks and timing everything just right, and it feels like such a satisfying accomplishment when you finally make it through the encounter. But when you're in those smaller, more linear sections of the game, the pacing slows way down because of the tight quarters limiting your movement and the monsters ambushing you from every little nook and cranny. You kind of have to take it slowly so that they don't get the jump on you as easily, in addition to having to slow down to examine the environments in more detail to find hidden items and secret areas. It starts feeling less like Serious Sam and more like Doom 3, except without the horror tension and you can actually see where you're going.

I know the point of the game is for there to be non-stop action with stuff constantly around to kill, but it gets really annoying having enemies constantly materializing out of thin air to ambush you and shoot you in the back before you can even react. You walk into a room and a mini-boss spawns, so you kill it and then dozens of kleer start spawning into the room. You kill them, then go to pick up some health and ammo, and as soon as you do another mini-boss spawns out of thin air right on top of you. You kill that, then go into a side room and a horde of marsh hoppers spawn in front of you while more kleers spawn behind you. You kill that stuff and come to a dead end, so you turn around then even more stuff spawns as you return to the main room. And every single fight is long and drawn-out because you have to fight so many things, every single time, that the constant spawns start to make it feel like there's a fly buzzing around your face that you just can't get rid of.

Or in this case, a bunch of harpies. 

It doesn't help that you spend the whole game fighting the same dozen enemies over and over again. There's variation in the ways different types of enemies are combined with the level design to form unique scenarios, yes, but you're still fighting the same enemies every single level. When you're fighting a horde of kleer for the umpteenth time, you're not thinking "oh, this fight is different from the last one because there are these pillars in the way, and there are reptiloids standing on top of those pillars shooting homing orbs at me." No, you're thinking "man I'm getting sick of fighting kleer all the time." After a while they stop feeling like fun, challenging new scenarios, and more like endless variations of a one-trick pony.

It also doesn't help that the game's arsenal consists entirely of bog-standard FPS weaponry: pistols, pump shotgun, double barrel shotgun, machine gun, minigun, rocket launcher, and grenade launcher. The only weapons that are somewhat unique are the laser gun, which has been done in other games before and is basically just a high-powered machine gun with slower projectiles, and the cannon, which I have to admit actually looks pretty cool. It shoots a giant cannonball that splats through hordes of enemies. Sadly, I didn't play far enough to unlock it. So the weapons themselves aren't that fun to use, and there's also a problem with weapons quickly becoming obsolete as you unlock new ones. The knife and pistols are pretty much worthless unless you're just completely out of ammo; the shotguns fire so slowly, with zero penetration and pretty weak pellet spread, that they're practically worthless against a horde of enemies; and the machine gun is completely outclassed by the minigun and laser gun.

Pretty sure I let an exploding kamikaze dude get too close.

That means only half of the weapons are actually worth using, because the other half feel so woefully underpowered. Different weapons are better suited for different situations, however the weapon swap speed is so aggravatingly slow (especially if you're firing a shotgun, and have to pump or reload it before even triggering the slow swap animation) that swapping weapons feels like more of a nuisance than an advantage, and you're even forced to use those weaker weapons in order to conserve ammo for your stronger ones. There is some fun gameplay involved there, however, with managing your ammunition so that you always have ammo available when you need it, since you can completely screw yourself by blowing through all the ammo for your stronger weapons and get stuck fighting a boss or a tougher challenge later in the level with less firepower.

Exploration is a key element in keeping your health, armor, and ammo supplies properly maintained, and Serious Sam has a lot of secrets hidden in the level design that can give you a strong boost if you're clever or observant enough to find them. The great thing about the secrets is that, in most cases, they're teased before you can get to them; you're walking through a level and you see a powerup sitting in an obvious location just out of reach, which entices you to figure out how to get to it, and makes it really satisfying when you figure out how. Other secrets are so well-hidden you don't even realize you've miss them until you beat the level and it gives you the rundown on your stats.

Finding a health powerup in a discreet alcove. 

Unfortunately, collecting drops and finding secrets isn't always that rewarding, because the game has a tendency to punish you just for playing it, even when you do something good like find a secret area. It's not uncommon to find a hidden area with 100 machine gun bullets, only to have a horde of enemies spawn on top of you that take 150 bullets to kill, leaving you worse off than if you'd never found the area at all. Everything is just an excuse to make more enemies spawn, and I get that killing enemies is the main point of this game, but it kind of gets enervating having the game essentially reward you with more enemies.

The game looks pretty good for its time, though the version I'm playing may have been updated with slightly higher-resolution textures and better shaders. The insane draw distance and huge number of enemies on screen is technically impressive, and I certainly enjoy the change of place involved with playing a shooter in an exotic location like Egypt. The soundtrack has an appropriately Egyptian-sounding vibe to it, but it's so mellow and subdued that I barely even noticed it playing most of the time -- it never really added to the atmosphere or the intensity of the action. The enemy sound design, however, is outstanding, with each enemy having its own unique sound-effect for moving and attacking, with their volume getting louder the closer they get to you, which helps to keep track of where enemies are at all times. Even if you can't see an enemy, you know it's there, and depending on the sound you might need to change your priorities and turn to focus on it.

I can certainly see the appeal in Serious Sam, but I just don't find it very fun. To me it's tedious and repetitive. I get so annoyed with enemies popping out of nowhere right in my face and spawning behind me for cheap shots all the time. I get annoyed walking into a room and having a horde of enemies spawn on top of me, only to kill them and have another horde of enemies spawn on top of me when I take another two steps forward. There's nothing unique about the weapons, and it gets tiring fighting the same enemies over and over again in every single level. It's a challenging game and it is pretty satisfying to beat its tough encounters, but it relies too much on trial-and-error quick-save abuse, which I just don't have the patience or desire to deal with. After playing nine of its thirteen levels, I just don't care to finish it because I'd simply rather be playing something else. I guess it's time I finally give Quake a shot.

Resident Evil 7: Banned Footage DLC Review

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The first wave of DLC for Resident Evil 7 consists of two separate packs: Banned Footage Vol. 1 ($9.99) and Banned Footage Vol. 2 ($14.99). Each pack comes with two video cassette "flashbacks" plus a bonus game mode, for a total of six scenarios. Volume 1 features "Nightmare," in which you play as Clancy trapped in the basement trying to fight off waves of molded; "Bedroom," in which you play as Clancy locked in a bedroom trying to solve puzzles to escape; and "Ethan Must Die," an ultra-hard rogue-lite mini-campaign in which you play as Ethan exploring the main house and green house before fighting a boss. Volume 2 features "21," in which you play as Clancy forced by Lucas to play a sadistic version of high-stakes blackjack; "Daughters," in which you play as Zoe on the night that the Baker family starts to turn; and "Jack's 55th Birthday," in which you play as Mia in a comically bizarre time-trial scenario about searching the Baker estate for food to bring to Jack.

Since each scenario involves a completely different premise with its own unique gameplay, I'll be reviewing each scenario individually, grouped based on how they appear in the two DLC packs. I'll give my overall thoughts on the value and balance of content for each DLC pack -- essentially, whether either of them is worth buying or not -- in the conclusion section at the end of the article.



"Nightmare"
Banned Footage: Vol. 1

"Nightmare" is a video tape flashback in which you play as Clancy, the cameraman from the Sewer Gators, trying to survive the night trapped in the basement of the Baker house. It is, essentially, a horde-survival mode. You have to survive five waves of increasing difficulty while managing a limited supply of "scrap," which serves as a currency for crafting weapons, ammo, and upgrades at a workbench. You begin with a certain amount of scrap to build your starting loadout, and are rewarded with more scrap for surviving each wave. Trash compactors spread throughout the basement provide a slow but steady stream of extra scrap to help during each wave, if you can make it to the trash compactors and back to the workbench. Scrap costs for ammunition and healing aids start out cheap but become progressively more expensive as you buy more. You can also spend scrap to activate traps in the environment like explosive tripwires and automated turrets that target molded enemies.

Getting swarmed by molded in the compactor room.

A lot of the fun of playing "Nightmare" comes from its strong implementation of resource management. Scrap is your lifeline in this game mode, with it providing literally everything you need to survive, and so you have to spend it wisely. It might be tempting to stick with one or two powerful weapons, but you'll quickly find ammo prices skyrocketing to unsustainable heights, so you have to juggle multiple weapons and balance your usage to keep the ammo prices down. You could spend a huge chunk of scrap to make your weapons do a lot more damage, but then you can't afford as much ammo. You could spend an even bigger chunk of scrap to unlock other areas of the basement with extra trash compactors and traps, or increase the production rate of trash compactors so that they'll produce more scrap in the long run, but that leaves you strapped for scrap in the short term. Meanwhile, is it worth upgrading other things like your max health, run speed, or reload speed?

Unused scrap also counts towards your final score, should you survive all five waves. Each time you play, your score is added to a cumulative score of all your previous runs; as you reach higher cumulative scores, you unlock extra bonuses like beginning wave one with extra scrap to get a better loadout before starting, or unlocking more powerful weapons and upgrades to build from the workbench. These upgrades make the game a little bit easier, of course, which allows you to get higher scores, which allows you unlock better upgrades for a constantly satisfying reward cycle. And so, not only do you have to manage your scrap to make sure you have enough supplies to get through the final wave, you also have to weigh the thought of deliberately handicapping yourself by not taking as many upgrades so that your unused scrap will contribute to a greater score.

Wave one starts out fairly easy, with you mainly fighting a slow trickle of basic molded, one-on-one, with the occasional "Travis" molded thrown in, before getting a few crawling molded at the very end. Wave two ups the ante by throwing more enemies at you, and then having you fight Jack at the end, who serves as a type of mini-boss. As the waves progress, they start introducing the "fatty" molded (who spew bile at you) and mixing more of the "Travis" and crawling molded into the mix, while making all of the enemies stronger; they gain a little extra health, faster movement speed, and increased damage. In the final wave, you have to fight Jack again -- this time, with his chainsaw scissors -- while more molded continue to spawn around you. When you beat "Nightmare," you unlock "Night Terror," which is the same scenario but even harder, with proportionally higher scores.

Setting up a turret to shoot Jack. 

I had a lot of fun with "Nightmare" (and particularly "Night Terror"), but I never really got into the high scores. It took me a few attempts to beat it on each difficulty, and then I played it a few more times to try different strategies and challenging myself to get higher scores, but it takes a lot of time and effort to unlock some of the more interesting bonuses. I, personally, didn't feel like it was worth it to grind scores for a few hours just to unlock fun alternatives for what is, ultimately, a meaningless game mode. Still, the action in Resident Evil 7 has a satisfyingly raw and intense feeling to it, in large part because its slower pace emphasizes each individual enemy encounter more, and "Nightmare" lets you get a quick fix by jumping into a short scenario that pumps the action and the survival tension way up, with a new resource management system that lets you make interesting, weighty decisions about how to spend your limited resources and plan an efficient session.

If you like the action in Resident Evil 7 and/or wish there were more of it, then "Nightmare" is a good option for you. I was certainly pleased that the base game chose to stay away from this type of constant action, but after playing "Nightmare" I kind of wish they'd included a trimmed down version of it (one wave, no scrap system) as a video tape that you could play in the base game. It reminded me a lot of the Cabin fight from Resident Evil 4, which was one of the most intense and memorable moments of that game for me, and so I think "Nightmare" could've stood out as more memorable and impactful if you could've experienced it as Ethan watching the tape in the main playthrough. Then of course, they could've sold the "Nightmare" DLC as it exists now with five waves and the scrap system as an "expanded" version. Either way, I got a few hours of entertainment out of it, and I may find myself coming back to it every now and then, because it's not a bad way to kill some time.



"Bedroom"
Banned Footage: Vol. 1

"Bedroom" is another video tape flashback in which you play as Clancy, this time solving another Escape-the-Room puzzle similar to the "Happy Birthday" tape. In this tape, you wake up strapped to the bed in the master bedroom with Marguerite bringing you some of her delicious home cooking. As it turns out, you aren't strapped down very securely, so once she's gone (and locks the door behind her) you're free to get up and start searching the room for ways to escape. Like "Happy Birthday" you have to complete a series of specific actions in a specific order, which involves things like figuring out the combination to the padlock for the storage closet, finding and putting paintings in the correct places on the wall, and figuring out how to get a nest of spiders out of your way, among other things.

Good ol' Marge bringing some of that home cooking.

The twist in this scenario is that Marguerite periodically returns to check on you, typically when you progress through the sequence enough to trigger events that cause a lot of noise. If she catches you out of bed, or notices that things in the room are different than they should be (e.g., if you rearranged the paintings and didn't put them back) then she'll unleash her bug assault on you and damage you. If you get caught enough times, you die and have to start the tape over again. Solving the puzzle to escape the room, therefore, involves not only solving the individual puzzles within it, but also remembering what all you've done and backtracking some of your progress when you realize Marguerite's coming and you only have 30 seconds to make everything look like you've never been out of the bed.

As usual, the puzzles in "Bedroom" fall victim to typical adventure game logic where there's only one exact way to do something. Instead of feeling like you're trying to come up with a creative solution to a problem, it feels like you're just trying to deduce the idiosyncratic logic behind the intended solution. I was fine with that in "Happy Birthday" because it was deliberately set up (by Lucas) to function like an Escape Room puzzle -- it makes sense that there'd be an intended sequence to follow -- but "Bedroom" isn't an Escape Room puzzle, it's Clancy improvising on the spot. You're also forced to learn some of the scenario's mechanics and solutions through trial-and-error, which isn't a problem in and of itself, but it's certainly irritating when certain things screw you over and you had no way of knowing that would happen until you try it, or when you play the entire scenario scenario and then fail at the very end, and have to start over from the beginning because you didn't do one little thing that you didn't even realize was necessary at that specific moment.

Ah, the ol'"Arrange the Paintings" puzzle. 

There's not much else I can say about "Bedroom" without spoiling solutions to puzzles, other than to say that the whole thing is really short and has no replay value. I liked "Happy Birthday" in the base game and thought it stood out as the best (aka, only real) puzzle sequence in the entire game, and "Bedroom" is basically on par with "Happy Birthday" but with a little bit more excitement (in the form of rushing to reset the room to its original state and thinking on your feet when you have to pick a dialogue response) and a less sinister premise. "Happy Birthday" felt genuinely unsettling as I went through it; I felt a lot of nervous tension as I completed different tasks and approached its end, wary of what was going to happen, whereas I didn't feel much of anything during "Bedroom" except the mild panic of resetting the room and getting back in bed within the time limit. It's always nice to have more puzzles, however, so I'll gladly take it.



"Ethan Must Die"
Banned Footage: Vol. 1

"Ethan Must Die" is a super-hard mini-campaign in which you play as Ethan going through the main house of the Baker estate in search of the keys to the greenhouse so that you can fight and kill Marguerite. The campaign uses all of the same locations, enemies, and items from the base game, but remixes everything to create a new and unusual route through the house with a bunch of challenging and unique encounters. As a mini-campaign, it only lasts about 20 minutes, but it'll take you much longer than that to beat it because you have to complete it all in one run; if you die, you start over from the beginning. Death comes incredibly easy in this mode, with Ethan dying from traps and most enemies in just one hit, and you get very little in the way of weapons or ammunition, which is randomized every time.

Two loot crates in a room with an explosive tripwire. 

This mode may very well be called "Ethan Must Die" because you basically have to die to learn how traps work and where to expect ambushes. Item crates, for instance, are randomly rigged to explode and kill you, but you probably don't expect that until it happens to you -- then you know to start checking for the telltale signs before opening any. This mode also introduces a couple of new traps that can target both you and enemies: automated turrets and pressure plates that spew lethal gas. The game is fair about showing you how turrets work before really putting you up against them, but the first pressure plates you encounter have no enemies around, so you either avoid them and have no idea how they work, or sacrifice yourself to learn what they do. Likewise, a lot of enemies ambush you in particular spots, attacking you a mere second after they appear, with no warning whatsoever, meaning you're probably going to die unless you have perfect reflexes.

Trial-and-error therefore plays a huge role in beating "Ethan Must Die," typically with you advancing to a new area and dying, then starting over with newfound knowledge of what to expect up ahead, until you reach a new area and die again. I was a little frustrated with that fact at first, but then I realized there's a definite learning opportunity with every encounter, and that nearly every encounter has an easy solution intentionally built into it. In reality, "Ethan Must Die" is actually pretty simple and easy -- you just have to put in the work to "solve" its "puzzles." Once you know the trick to beating each encounter, success mostly comes down to not screwing up in the few instances where you actually have to fight something head-on, and getting good luck with weapons and ammunition.

Two legless molded coming for me in the hallway. 

The luck aspect with random drops can be pretty frustrating, considering that a lot of items are almost completely useless in this mode (what good, for instance, is getting a bunch of healing items when you typically die in one hit, or stabilizers when you're never going to have enough ammo to reload a weapon, or chem fluid if you're never going to find any gunpowder and vice versa) and can leave you completely screwed if you just get hosed on weapons and ammo. A lot of the mode's fun and excitement comes from that, however, since you never know what to expect; sometimes you just have to find a way to make do with three pistol rounds and a knife, and it feels pretty satisfying if you succeed. Resource management is also at the top of its game in this mode, with you having extremely limited inventory space and having to make tough decisions about what to take and what to leave behind. Is it worth, for instance, dropping that shotgun with two shells left in it in exchange for a grenade launcher with one grenade?

There's no inherent replay value once you beat it, unless you just want to try for a faster completion time, because so much of it is the exact same every time -- once you've "solved" it, each play is just rolling the dice to see what items you get. I really enjoyed learning its tricks and mastering it, and it certainly feels like an accomplishment having beaten it, but not everyone will enjoy (or ever complete) this game mode because of how hard it is and how much trial-and-error is involved. But, if you're someone who played (and enjoyed) Madhouse difficulty, then I think you'll also enjoy "Ethan Must Die."



"21"
Banned Footage: Vol. 2

"21" is yet another video tape flashback in which you play as Clancy. This time you're forced by Lucas to play a modified version of blackjack, in which you and another captive must play to the death, first by betting with fingers (which get sliced off by a guillotine when you lose), then with increasing voltages of electricity, and then finally with a tug-of-war set of spinning blades that have to be pushed towards your opponent by winning. "21" follows the normal rules of blackjack except it uses a modified deck consisting only of 11 cards, numbered one through eleven. It also adds special trump cards to the later rounds, which allow you to play special actions like drawing specific cards from the deck, or forcing your opponent to discard his latest draw, or switching cards with your opponent, and so on. Once you finish "21" you unlock "Survival," in which you have to defeat five opponents without losing all five of your fingers, and by beating that mode, you unlock "Survival+," in which you need to face ten opponents without getting your electricity gauge to max.

"Hoffman" getting a brutally close shave. 

The initial "21" scenario that you go through with Lucas has some decent story value because it gives you more insight into Lucas's sadistic personality and makes him a little more sinister than he appears in the base game, but once you complete that and move onto both "Survival" modes (and even during "21" itself, in terms of the gameplay), you're really just playing blackjack, plain and simple. It may be dressed up in a Resident Evil theme, but it has nothing to do with Resident Evil 7, its characters, its premises, or its gameplay. This is, simply, an unrelated card game sold as Resident Evil DLC. I'll admit, it's a little more fun to play than regular blackjack because the 11-card deck makes it easier to count cards and calculate probabilities, and the trump cards give you more control over things than simply relying on the fate of the draw, but it's still just blackjack.

Both of the "Survival" modes felt pretty boring and repetitive to me, especially so when it comes to "Survival+" where you're literally playing a hundred or more hands of blackjack over and over again, slowly trying to make your way through a line of 10 opponents who each have 10 "hit points" for an hour straight before even reaching the final "boss," who spams obnoxiously overpowered trump cards at you that can completely screw you over if you don't have enough of the right trump cards to counter them, and thus force you to spend another slow and excruciating hour working your way through opponents just to face the boss again and hopefully not get screwed as badly. The final boss borders on being outright unfair and broken, which could possibly feel like a fun and worthwhile challenge if it weren't such a huge waste of time just getting to him.

Consulting my hand of trump cards. 

There's plenty of strategy to be had with playing the right trump cards at the right time and playing for the long haul instead of the quick win, but there's still some luck involved with card draws, and it can be infuriating to play for 75 minutes, reach the boss, and have a 75% chance to draw a card that will put you at 18, 20, or 21, and you end up drawing the one card that busts you when you don't have a trump card to save yourself. Or when you get the final boss down to his last few "hit points" and you raise the stakes enough to beat him on the current hand, playing all your trump cards to get a perfect 21 and knowing he can't possibly beat you (or even tie you), and then he plays a card that says "too bad, this round doesn't count." And then he draws a perfect 21 on the next hand when you have no more trump cards left to do anything about it.

There's built-in replay value with the two extra "Survival" modes, and you can also strive for specific achievements (like "win a hand despite busting" or "play 15 trump cards in a single round") to unlock more powerful trump cards, but I was just so bored and annoyed with it that after trying "Survival+" twice I gave up, and had no desire to try anymore. The game of blackjack, as Lucas imagines it in this version, is pretty solid, and I like card games, but playing a card game for hours at a time is not what I think of when I think of Resident Evil. I like what they did with Lucas's character, but wish they'd done something different with the gameplay. This felt like the weakest of the six DLC scenarios, and I did not enjoy playing it.



"Daughters"
Banned Footage: Vol. 2

"Daughters" is a video tape flashback in which you play as Zoe on the night that the Baker family begins to turn. While a hurricane is wreaking havoc on the gulf of Mexico, Jack comes in from the rain saying he's found "another one," carrying an unconscious little girl in his arms. He and Marguerite agree that they can care for the two storm victims for a few days, until the storm passes and they can get them into town. Marguerite starts fixing dinner, Jack takes the girl upstairs to Lucas's old bedroom, and tasks you with getting her dried off and getting her into a set of clean clothes. And then all hell starts breaking loose. Suddenly Jack and Marguerite are acting weird, losing control of themselves, and coming after you; you have to avoid them and find a way out of the house.

Sitting down for breakfast with the family. 

That's pretty important, since this tape is less about gameplay and more about story, atmosphere, and characters. Gameplay-wise, it's the usual mechanisms from the base game of hiding or running away from the Bakers and searching the environment for the right key items to unlock doors. The scenario can branch in two directions, resulting in either the "bad ending" or the "true ending" depending on what you do; this comes down to essentially a 50/50 choice on which drawer you choose to open with the only lockpick, and whether you were observant enough to notice one small detail. In my case, I noticed that detail and made a mental note of it, but I apparently picked the wrong drawer, not knowing that I'd just locked myself into the bad ending. That, I feel, is a little lame, as if they did that to make the "true ending" harder to get so that you'll have to replay it to see it.

Like with the "Bedroom" tape, there's not a lot I can say about this one because it's so short (it only lasts about 15 minutes -- twice that if you play it again to see an alternate ending), and I can't discuss what happens in much detail without spoiling things. It's nice to see what the house looked like a few years prior to seeing it in its rundown state of disarray as Ethan, and to get a glimpse of what the Bakers were like before changing, but it's so brief and the change happens so quickly that the effect is kind of lost. You get basically one dialogue exchange with each family member and then suddenly they're evil and possessed. There's not enough time to appreciate who they were before the change, and the change happens so suddenly that there's not enough time to appreciate that, either.

"When I ask for rope, I expect to get rope!"

There's some good, creepy stuff going on with the atmosphere, though. I like the fact that Zoe uses her lighter to see in the dark, which restricts your vision to just a few feet in front of you so there's a little bit more dread with not being able to see things until you get close enough. There's one good artistic moment when this somber piano music kicks in, with the rain from the storm pelting against the house and Zoe sobbing uncontrollably, having just escaped from Jack, who can be heard through the walls gibbering maniacally while trying to keep control of himself. "Daughters" is a great idea and explores something that I think everyone would enjoy getting to see, but I really wish it were longer and more fleshed out, because as it is, it feels like more of a missed opportunity than the grand revelation I was hoping it would be.



"Jack's 55th Birthday"
Banned Footage: Vol. 2

"Jack's 55th Birthday" is a bonus game mode consisting of a weird, zany, off-the-wall scenario in which you play as Mia frantically running around various locations of the Baker estate trying to round up food and bring it to Jack to fill up his hunger gauge within a specified time limit. You can play in three different sections of the estate on normal and hard difficulties for a total of six scenarios. Each one begins with you selecting equipment and upgrades from an item box, which will be useful for fighting off the molded which spawn throughout the level to impede your progress, but will add to your time for each one that you kill. Different types of food are worth more for satisfying Jack's hunger, and some items can be combined to improve their value. And since food occupies inventory space, you have to balance having enough weapons, ammo, and upgrades to contend with the molded as efficiently as possible while leaving yourself room to carry more food.

Jack waiting for his birthday feast.

The general theme and atmosphere of this game mode is such a pleasant change of pace from the dark and depressing scenarios of the base game and all of the other DLC. Jack's sitting there with a clown nose and party hat, all the molded wear comical hats like football helmets, baseball hats, party hats, and cowboy hats, the guns shoot confetti (in addition to damaging the molded), and Mia's cheering "whoo hoo!" and "let's go!" like she's having fun every time she finds a powerup or a sweet cache of food somewhere. Then there's that whimsical music playing in the background, which sounds like something out of a cartoonish platformer from the 90s. The whole thing is so ridiculous that I fell in love with it immediately.

Just beating each scenario is simple enough, but you really want to go for faster times to unlock better powerups, which are not only fun to play around with (there's a golden crowbar that lights enemies on fire) but also help you get better times on the higher difficulties. Getting those faster times is almost like solving a puzzle; besides just figuring out the ideal loadout of equipment and powerups for each stage, you also have to figure out the most efficient route through each stage. As the scenarios advance, they start introducing color-coded locked doors, which require you to find and kill a particular enemy somewhere with the matching color. Most stages also have a blue or red blaster, a laser pistol powerup that gives insane time bonuses for each enemy you kill with it within a certain time limit. So, getting those high scores involves going to the right places in the right order to minimize time wasted backtracking, as well as maximizing the amount of extra time you can earn from killing enemies.

Killing a molded and earning extra time. 

Of all the DLC, I think this one might have the most replay value, since you get six different scenarios to play through, and you have to play each stage a few times to puzzle out the most efficient loadouts and routes. The unlockable powerups are a lot of fun to mess around with, so I felt genuine motivation to try to get as many as I could, and the bonus SS ranks that unlock when you score an S rank on a level look so incredibly challenging that it would be a real badge of honor to pull off. I'm not sure I care enough to strive for that, but I had a lot of fun getting S and A ranks on each of the six stages, and may find myself coming back to some of them later to try to get my last remaining S ranks.



In Conclusion

I got about 15 hours of gameplay out of the six scenarios released in the Banned Footage DLC packs, and I enjoyed my time with each one, except for "21" which I thought was kind of rubbish compared to everything else. After playing through each one sufficiently to review them, I booted the game back up to grab a few screenshots for this review, and then found myself playing some of the modes for another 2.5 hours, just for the fun of it. So, you can spend $25 on both DLC packs and get 12-20 hours of entertainment out of them, which isn't a bad ratio. For the most part, I wouldn't say any of them are really essential -- they're mostly just content padding, giving you extra game modes and fun twists on existing ideas already explored in the base game. They don't add to the main game in any significant way, except for maybe "Daughters," which is so short that you really aren't missing much.

If I had to rate the six scenarios based on how much enjoyment I got out of them and how much value I feel they add to the game, with one star (*) being "meh," two stars (**) being "pretty good but a little underwhelming," and three stars (***) being "solid fun with good replay value," it would be as such:
Banned Footage Vol. 1 ($9.99)
- "Nightmare" (***)
- "Bedroom" (**)
- "Ethan Must Die" (***) 
Banned Footage Vol. 2 ($15.99)
- "21" (*)
- "Daughters" (**)
- "Jack's 55th Birthday" (***)
So if you're in a situation where you can only afford one DLC pack, I'd have to recommend Volume 1 since it offers more fun and replay value for a cheaper price. That recommendation comes with a caveat, however, that you have to have played and enjoyed Madhouse difficulty and be looking for a tough challenge, otherwise "Ethan Must Die" will be completely worthless to you, and you might not even enjoy "Nightmare" (or its harder version, "Night Terror") that much. But if you liked the "Happy Birthday" tape and want more Escape-the-Room puzzles, then "Bedroom" is absolutely necessary. "Daughters" is worth playing, but it's too short and I feel like they could've done a lot more with it. "Jack's 55th Birthday" is a really fun juxtaposition of the usual themes and gameplay mechanisms, but some people may not appreciate its silliness as much as I did. And "21" was just lame all around.

Titan Quest: The "Neapolitan Ice Cream" of Action-RPGs

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Titan Quest is a hack-n-slash action-RPG based on ancient Greek, Egyptian, and Chinese mythology. It seemed to fly under the radar back in 2006, and yet somehow, for some reason, publisher THQ decided to release a massive free update for it 10 years later in 2016. Dubbed the "Anniversary Edition," this new version is a complete overhaul of the original game with performance tweaks, improved functionality, new features, and better balancing while also throwing in the Immortal Throne expansion. The core gameplay follows the traditions of Diablo, where you work your way through a series of levels fighting enemies, collecting randomized loot, and investing points in skill trees when you level up, all in an overhead axonometric view with a mouse-driven interface and real-time combat.

Action-RPGs aren't usually my cup of tea. I played some of the original Titan Quest back in 2007 (the "Gold Edition" box is still sitting on my shelf) as well as a few others in the genre (Diablo, Diablo 3, Dungeon Siege, Dungeon Siege 2, Path of Exile), but in each case I only played for a few hours and then lost interest. Titan Quest: Anniversary Edition is the first of this type of game that I've actually played to completion, and even then, I still technically haven't completed it because I stopped shortly after finishing the base game's campaign, having no desire to continue further with the expansion content. That should give you a pretty clear idea of how I felt about the game: I enjoyed it enough to play it through until the end, but not enough to keep going when it tried to get me to stick around for more.

Since I'm not a super-seasoned aciton-RPG person I can't get into much detail about how Titan Quest stacks up to other games in the genre, but even with my limited familiarity with these games I still find it difficult to talk about Titan Quest as its own entity because it seems like such a bog-standard, formulaic action-RPG that most of what I'd be saying about it could apply to all action-RPGs in general. I feel like this is the type of game that I could just say "it's Diablo but set in ancient Greece, Egypt, and China" and you would intuitively know if you'd like it or not. Still, I have some observations that might help shed some more light on the game and perhaps explain the Neapolitan ice cream comparison in the title.

Fighting cyclopes while ascending Mount Olympus.

Titan Quest takes place over the course of three acts, with the first act being set in Greece, the second act in Egypt, and the third act in China. You play as some random dude or dudette starting on the outskirts of town, helping a farmer whose livestock are being attacked by satyrs. As you head into town you learn that monsters have been unleashed on the world, and that there's a greater plot by some mysterious figures to release the Titans from their imprisonment so that they can destroy the world. The rest of the game is a matter of following leads from historic location to historic location across Greece, Egypt, and eventually China en route to fighting a Titan as the final boss.

I can't comment on the story because frankly I did not pay attention to it. There's a ton of dialogue in this game (or more accurately, monologues, since you never engage in conversation yourself -- characters just speak at you), with quest-givers offering backstories for their quests and other NPCs who exist to dump mythological lore on you, but after the first 30 minutes I stopped caring and starting skipping all the dialogue. I'm sure you can learn a lot about history and ancient cultures by playing this game, and maybe there's some hidden depth in the main story and it's not just a cliche "bad guys want to unleash devastating monsters on the world, you must stop them" plot, but none of it seemed to impact the gameplay in any way since everything is just an excuse to make you fight through levels to find an item, kill an enemy, or talk to an NPC.

Pulling the camera down to get a closer look at an NPC.

The game's pacing is mind-numbingly slow to begin with, and sitting through long monologues makes the game feel even slower. Movement is slow, combat is slow, progression is slow, everything is slow. You're always moving forward to new areas, fighting new types of enemies, finding new loot, and improving your character through skill trees, but it takes so long to make any kind of significant progress. Most of the loot drops you come across are completely worthless, either because they're weak "common" stuff or they don't fit your build, and so there's usually a lot of time between equipment upgrades, and when you level up you're often just improving your stats or skills by a few meager percentage points. This is a game where you can play for a few hours in one session and come away not feeling any stronger than when you started. 

One of the best aspects of the "Anniversary Edition" is that it speeds up some of the animations to make the game a little bit faster than normal, and it takes it two steps further by adding a "game speed" option to the settings menu. With that, you can bump the game up to "fast" or "very fast.""Fast" gives the game a nice boost, and "very fast" is useful for moments when you're just running long distances to reach somewhere, but can make combat a little too fast. With the game on "very fast" I occasionally found myself going from full health to near death in one second, and so there's not always enough time to react to powerful spells or a sudden change of enemy tactics. If you're going to play Titan Quest, then I'd say you absolutely have to play with it on "fast," bare minimum. 

Combat is pretty slow and simple, especially in the beginning; you're typically only fighting a few enemies at a time, most of which are basic trash mobs that simply wear you down over time, and so you just kind of lazily click on things and hold down the left mouse button until everything dies, then press a button to automatically pick up all the gold and potions, and then slowly wander to the next cluster of enemies to do it all over again. Active skills can give you more things to do in a fight, but due to a mix-up with my friend, with whom I was cooping the game, I ended up going a full summoner route, which may be the most boring thing ever because my summons did all the work for me automatically. It quickly reached a point where, any time I was playing the game, I'd put on a TV show or listen to a podcast, and probably pay more attention to the show than the game.

Fighting undead in a tomb somewhere. 

I really didn't have to pay attention to what I was doing because the game is so easy for so much of the main campaign that you can breeze through everything with minimal effort. I made it all the way to the third town, for instance, without investing a single skill point, improving any of my attributes, or even picking a class. Once I did all that, I became practically invincible, easily killing everything before it could so much as dent my or my summons' health while I sat on literally hundreds of healing potions. And then, for whatever reason, the difficulty suddenly spiked so high in the middle of the third act that the boring tedium of lazily killing everything in sight turned into boring tedium kiting circles around enemies popping potions and waiting for the cooldown on my summons to recharge because they (and I) were getting destroyed in seconds. So the difficulty balancing hits extreme ends of the spectrum, starting out way too easy and suddenly becoming obnoxiously hard, while never hitting a desirable sweet spot in the middle.

Quests are literally straightforward; every quest that you pick up always points to the next area of the game, and since you follow an extremely linear path from start to finish you conveniently pick up and complete every single quest along the way. You can completely ignore the quest monologue and never read the journal entry to know what your objective is supposed to be, and still complete the quest as long as you go everywhere possible before moving on to the next area. You never make any choices during a quest, and there's never any risk of failing or missing a quest. The same holds true for exploration as well; there's little thought or effort involved because you just mindlessly follow your progress on the automap and make sure you don't leave any unexplored areas before moving on.

All of that sounds like pretty stark criticism, but it's not all bad. In fact, the game has some nice, clever things going on that are worth praising. There's a sensible logic to the way loot drops, for instance; enemies actually equip the items they use and drop them when they die, so if you're an archer and you're looking to get sweet archer gear you're better off fighting enemies that are obviously shooting bows and arrows at you, as opposed to a group of mages. Dropped items can't be examined or picked up unless you toggle their text display with a button, which is nice for cutting down on screen clutter and keeping all the loot out of your way when you're clicking to move around or to attack an enemy. Additionally, you can toggle different loot filters so that only loot of certain rarities and above will ever be displayed -- again, highly useful for cutting down on the clutter since you don't even have to see all the crappy "broken" and "common" items you'll never pick up.

So many crappy items that aren't worth picking up.

Titan Quest uses a dual class system; at level one you pick a starting class from one of nine choices (hunter, rogue, defender, warrior, necromancer, druid, storm mage, earth mage, and dream seer), and then at level eight you pick a second class from the remaining choices. For the rest of the game you can put points into one or both skill trees, which allows for some fun, creative hybridization and unique build diversity, and each tree has several worthwhile options to choose from every tier. But of course, you don't get enough skill points over the course of the game to be a master of everything, so it forces you to specialize and really think about what skills you're taking, and how you plan for the long haul.

I also really like the ancient Greek, Egyptian, and Chinese setting. It seems like 90% of the games in this genre are medieval, sword-and-sorcery fantasy themes, with only slight variations within existing archetypes of that genre, and even fewer that try to do something completely different. Titan Quest stands out as a rare example of the latter, and it's just such a refreshing change of pace to play one of these types of games in a colorful, brightly lit environment. The three regions are all strongly themed after their own mythologies: in Greece you go to the Parthenon in Athens and fight minotaurs, gorgons, and cyclopes; in Egypt you go to the pyramids of Giza and fight mummies, scorpions, and dunewraiths; in China you go to the Great Wall and fight tigermen, dragonoids, and terracotta warriors. Each area looked and felt dramatically different from the last, and I really liked seeing how the designers tied each areas' ancient mythologies into the gameplay and aesthetics.

Fighting terracotta warriors in a Chinese village.

My criticisms may seem to outnumber and outweigh my praises, but none of the game's issues ever really bothered me, except for maybe that obnoxious difficulty spike near the end when I was ready to be done with the game. For the most part Titan Quest is a relaxing activity where you can shut your brain off and just play a game without burning yourself out. This is the type of game you play after a long day of work when you don't have the energy to play something more intense, and indeed that's basically how (and why) I kept playing -- because it was a nice and simple game I could play late at night when I didn't feel like stressing myself out with the survival-horror tension of Resident Evil 7, or piecing together the story of SOMA, or the intense action of Serious Sam, or the mental aerobics of managing my party in Wizardry 8. It seems completely average gameplay-wise, but it's serviceable enough, and there's enough interesting things going on with its unique theming that it kept me playing all the way through the base game.

Titan Quest is a bit like Neapolitan ice cream, in the sense that it offers simple, familiar flavors -- it doesn't do anything too crazy or exciting to mix up the standard formula, but it gives you variety in one package, and sometimes that simple combination of familiar flavors is all you really need.

Pathologic: The Marble Nest - Demo Impressions

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The original Pathologic, released back in 2005 by Russian developer Ice-Pick Lodge, is one of the most unique and interesting games ever made. I reviewed it five years ago and had a lot of high praise for it. The legacy of the original game is so strong that Ice-Pick Lodge took to Kickstarter a few years ago planning a remake that would fix some of the original's critical problems while re-imagining and improving many of the story elements and gameplay mechanics. As part of the process in developing the new version, they've recently released a free playable demo called The Marble Nest, which consists of a stand-alone scenario meant to showcase some of the game's more prominent gameplay mechanisms while condensing the full game experience down to two hours. 

For the uninitiated, Pathologic is a type of survival-horror adventure game played in first-person, in which you take the role of one of three different healers who have arrived in a strange town with a bunch of bizarre and mysterious customs just as a deadly plague breaks out. The game takes place over the course of 12 days, with the town changing dramatically as the plague spreads and more and more people become infected. Each day comes with a main quest that must be completed while the clock continues to tick, leaving you a limited amount of time each day to complete your tasks. Meanwhile, you have to manage your own condition on various statistical gauges, which involves scrounging the environment for resources and manipulating a fickle economy where sometimes your only hope for survival is to sell your only weapon for a few slices of bread.

The Marble Nest maintains all of these ideas, but trims some of the more complicated survival systems and economy management down while putting you in a scenario that spans only one day. In it, you wake up some time after the plague has already wiped out most of the population, after your final quarantine zone has been breached. With seemingly all hope lost, you watch as the city collapses around you, and then the game flashes back to 14 hours prior, giving you a chance to possibly prevent the catastrophe from happening, although you'll most likely fail and everyone will die horribly, as is the true spirit of Pathologic

Wandering the city streets with the Polyhedron looming in the distance.

Described by the designers as a "mood-piece created to acquaint you with the world of Pathologic," they warn that the demo doesn't include all of the gameplay mechanisms that will be in the full game (due out in November 2017, supposedly) and that it is very much a pre-alpha build. There's obviously a lot of missing polish that they didn't put into the demo (doors don't even animate when they open or close), but it already looks, feels, and sounds leagues better than the original game did. I guess that's to be expected, considering the original is about 12 years old at this point, and the original was never very good in the first place. The interface is sleek and intuitive, no longer the cumbersome mess that leaves you confused about how to perform basic game functions, dialogue is properly translated into real, sensible English, and the visuals look much more detailed and realistic while still retaining the same style and appearance of the original.

In terms of gameplay, The Marble Nest is basically a two-hour scenario spanning the course of one day, in which you run around a small district of the town talking to NPCs, making decisions, trying to save people, trying to maintain order as the district falls into chaos, and trying to find out who and where the carrier is who reportedly broke the quarantine so that you can keep the plague from spreading. This all plays out in modified real time, with a clock constantly ticking the minutes away from morning to evening as you race against time trying to fix all of the problems that seem to crop up all around you, and trying to find a way to avoid the inevitable fate that leads to your own weary demise, as is hinted by the en media res intro sequence before the flashback starts, in which Death himself pays you a visit with the city in flames and the corpses piling up to ask: "Are you ready to die?"

A sample dialogue hinting at the nature of the game's structure.

The demo manages to be as tense and stressful as the original game but without the slow burn of having to put in the strenuous, meticulous work of surviving in this harsh, decrepit town for 30-40 hours. All of the usual survival mechanics are still in place -- you have a bunch of statistical meters measuring things like your health, stamina, fatigue, hunger, thirst, immunity, and infection level, all of which require different items and actions to treat and maintain, but you start out in good enough condition and there's not enough time for any of these to really become an issue, unless you've never played the original and thus aren't familiar with how the systems work, then I could maybe see infection or hunger catching up to you. There's also no combat, from what I saw of the demo, which is fine because it was only a minor part of the original game.

The feeling of chaos from the original game, of things spiraling out of control as the situation rapidly deteriorates, is definitely present in the demo. Many of your assistants have abandoned their posts, leaving you short-handed and having to take care of more stuff on your own, and town officials have fallen into a type of insanity, issuing orders for the city guard that undermine your previous orders because they deliriously believe everything is fine. You had previously quarantined refugees with suspicious symptoms to the cathedral, only to find that everyone has been let out; the townsfolk get restless and start raiding the local shop for supplies, which you had ordered closed down; factory workers start talking about breaking into houses and killing people with symptoms to stop the plague. Eventually people start taking to the streets, attacking each other and setting the town's signal fires aflame, and despite all of your best efforts you're basically powerless to stop it.

As the plague starts taking over the final quarantine district.

As you roam the streets you hear about rumors from your assistants ("there are a bunch of kids hanging out in the courtyard looking into windows,""a woman down the street says her husband is ill," and so on), which get marked on your map as places of interest. You can also stumble into scenes that unfold all on their own, without any kind of prompting, and stop to investigate or possibly interfere, if you desire. At each of these events, you're usually given the option to talk to the people involved and make some kind of decision: do you let the looters into the store because its supplies could come in handy, or tell them to stay back and station a guard there to maintain order? When two people show signs of illness that don't necessarily correlate to the plague, do you keep them locked up or let them out? When a dying man tells you not to heal him, do you respect his wishes or administer the treatment and save his life?

All of these decisions impact the way the scenario will unfold; for the most part, they're just thematic, cosmetic changes, but they do a good job of making the game world feel more alive because you really get to see and feel the city descending into madness and despair. It also really adds to the thematic immersion, where it gives you this feeling of control, of making you think you have the power to prevent things and save people when in reality the situation is over your head and all you can really do is slow the bleeding. Some of the events (and your decisions within them) affect which of the four endings you get, with some being distinctly better than others. Failure is a definite possibility, and since there's no saving or loading to correct mistakes, this is the type of thing where you just have to act on instinct -- and quickly, for that matter -- and hope for the best, living (or dying) with whatever consequences arise from your actions.

The inventory screen, carrying a human heart in my pocket.

Unlike the original game, The Marble Nest can be somewhat aimless at times. In the original you received a letter from important NPCs every morning that gave you a clear objective to accomplish each day; in this demo, you have to decide for yourself what's important and what's not, because you might not have enough time to do everything. That's certainly a good thing because it forces you to make decisions and get into the role of Daniil Dankovsky a little more, but if you manage to complete everything in time, like I did, then you're stuck awkwardly wandering around with no purpose, just killing time until some kind of event happens or until the time limit finally runs out to let you trigger the ending. 

The endings (and the whole premise in general) can be rather poetic and open to interpretation. It's the type of thing meant to make you think about your own beliefs and understanding of the world. This comes into play with many of your decisions, obviously, but especially so when it comes to Death's visitation and his central question, "are you ready to die," and as you try to piece together what's actually going on in this world and what the significance of everything is actually supposed to be. It certainly has an intriguing mystique about it, and it does get you thinking, which is always good. 

I had a lot of praise and admiration for the original game when I reviewed it back in 2012, but the original is not a game I can easily recommend on account of its various problems (though I hear the Pathologic Classic HD release a few years ago improves some things a bit, such as the shoddy translation). This demo for the upcoming remake, subtitled The Marble Nest, is a game I can easily recommend, especially if anything I said about the original game or this demo has intrigued you. It definitely captures that unique atmosphere and feeling of the original game, that feeling of death and decay as a city steadily succumbs to the effects of the plague. Its two-hour length and streamlined gameplay make it easy enough to get into that I think just about anyone would be able to enjoy it. Hopefully this is but a mere taste of what we can expect from the remake when it finally comes out. 

Great Games You Never Played: Wizardry 8

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Wizardry 8 is a first-person party-based dungeon-crawling three-dimensional open-world role-playing game. Released in 2001 as the final entry in the long-running Wizardry series (which began in 1981 as one of the very first computer-RPGs), Wizardry 8 completes the "Dark Savant" trilogy that began with Wizardry 6, throughout which you're trying to stop an evil villain known as the Dark Savant from gaining access to the Cosmic Forge -- the tools used by the gods to create the universe, which hold the power to create, destroy, or change anything in the universe by simply writing its history into existence. Despite being a continuation of the story from the previous two games (your save files can be carried through all three games), Wizardry 8 works fine as a stand-alone title, although you'll miss a lot of references and it might take you a little longer to understand the backstory.

As part of a game series borne of the 1980s, Wizardry 8 definitely has that vintage, old-school vibe to it, but with the advantage of a much more modern skin which makes it a much easier game to get into. That's absolutely crucial, because this is a truly great RPG that easily ranks among the best RPGs ever made. It's not perfect, mind you -- there's one crucial problem that made me almost want to quit, and it's a little rough around the edges due to developer SirTech's dwindling budget -- but it's got one of the most robust party-creation systems ever implemented in a video game, and one of the best turn-based combat systems of any RPG. Not to mention a fairly sizable open-world with an interesting blend of fantasy and science-fiction elements, and a non-linear main-quest-line that allows for a lot of rewarding exploration and discovery.

If you're importing save files from Wizardry 7, then the start of Wizardry 8 can happen one of several different ways, with your party starting in completely different parts of the world with different starting configurations of the main quest depending on your choices in Wizardry 7. If, like me, you haven't played Wizardry 7 and are starting Wizardry 8 completely fresh, then you begin by creating your party of one-to-six adventurers, who are hired as bodyguards by a researcher on an expedition to another planet in search of an ancient artifact. Your party boards his spaceship, and as you arrive at the planet Dominus, the Dark Savant's black ship appears in orbit and shoots you down; you crash land outside a monastery in the mountains, left to fend for yourself on a foreign planet. As you explore the monastery, you meet an android who sets you on your main quest to retrieve the three mystical relics necessary to complete the ritual of Ascension and become a Cosmic Lord -- essentially a god in charge of overseeing the universe -- before the Dark Savant, who's also trying to Ascend so that he can take control of the universe.

Your first look at this foreign world, being welcomed by a treasure chest.

Already you're presented with a pretty novel concept for a main quest (become a space-god) in a world that blends typical fantasy tropes with modern and futuristic technology. This is a world seemingly built around medieval architecture and customs that somehow has also mastered space travel. The local human town of Arnika has a religious temple with priests who can sell you divine spellbooks right next to a spaceport powered by computers, a blacksmith who forges swords and breastplates right next to a jail with force-field prison cells. The juxtaposition of medieval fantasy and science fiction motifs may seem a bit weird and jarring, but the game plays this theme pretty straight and doesn't call attention to itself. As opposed to a game like Arcanum, where the steampunk blend of magic and technology is considered one of its main draws, the blend in Wizardry 8 feels almost incidental -- you almost take it for granted that this is just the way the world is.

It's pretty easy to find yourself immersed in this world. A lot of that has to do with the first-person perspective that allows you to freely roam its open world with traditional WASD and mouselook controls (you have to remap movement from the arrow keys to WASD), right-clicking the mouse to switch between mouselook and cursor control. An automap function helps you keep track of where you are, but it's not always necessary because most of the world's areas are designed with purposeful structure, which makes them pretty easy to navigate just by looking around and learning their layouts through simple observation. The automap becomes more of a necessity in some of the game's more labyrinthine "dungeons," and unfortunately it doesn't do a very good job whenever you're in an area with multiple floors or vertical levels, because the maps compress everything to a two-dimensional overhead view where a lot of information gets covered up by overlap.

The graphics look a little dated, even by 2001 standards -- just take a look at the 2D textures on the overly-polygonal NPCs, or some of the drab, flat-looking roads between major locations -- but most of the major areas have a pretty distinct aesthetic look to them, like the stone castle at Marten's Bluff, or the Trynnie village built in the Trynton treetops, or the tropical beaches of Bayjin Bay. It's not technically very impressive, but it gets the job done and gives each area a unique atmosphere. Where the visuals simply fail is in the game's incredibly short draw distance, which limits you to seeing only 50-100 yards in front of you at any given time, which is problematic in open areas where you literally can't see the horizon to know where you're going. Unlike Silent Hill, there's no fog or clever thematic excuse to get around this -- the game just doesn't render the environment. Fortunately, the draw distance can be adjusted with mods, which I highly recommend doing, although it can bog the engine down and bring the framerate to a crawl in denser environments like the swamp or Ascension Peak.

Scuba-diving in the shallows near Bayjin Bay.

The game's sound design is much more impressive than its visual design, with the music, voice acting, and sound effects perhaps contributing more to the game's immersive atmosphere than the visuals. There's a sound effect for nearly every action in the game, from dropping different types of items into your inventory to turning a dial on a control panel. Weapons have different "whooshing" and impact sounds, depending on the weapon and the thing you're hitting, and your footsteps make different noises depending on the type of surface you're walking on. The soundtrack uses a lot of traditional symphonic orchestrations for things like combat, but most of the time the music uses a fairly ambient, minimalist approach that helps to create tone and atmosphere for different locations without ever feeling repetitive. Other times the music captures an almost JRPG-type of vibe, such as with the camping music, the Arnika theme, or the T'Rang theme. Meanwhile, every character in the game is fully voice-acted, including your own customizable party members.

Party creation has to be, without a doubt, Wizardry 8's best feature, as it's the most robust system I've ever seen in an RPG. When creating a character to join your party of six, you get 15 different classes to choose from (fighter, rogue, lord, monk, ninja, samurai, valkyrie, bard, ranger, gadgeteer, priest, bishop, alchemist, psionic, mage), all of which have different skills and unique abilities, and 11 different races to choose from (human, elf, hobbit, gnome, dwarf, faery, felpurr (cat-person), rawulf (dog-person), lizardman, dracon (dragonoid), mook (wookiee)), all of which have different attributes which make certain races better suited for certain classes. While it's possible to make a dwarven ninja, for instance -- if you want the dwarf's natural ability to resist damage -- a felpurr would start with much higher attributes. Once you've picked a class, race, and gender, you get to allocate any bonus attribute points you might have leftover, and then you can allocate skill points in several different skills, many of which are unique to the class you select. These range from common skills like mythology, artifacts, close combat, communication, and so on to specific weapon proficiencies and class-specific skills like lockpicking, stealth, music, critical strike, and so on.

Then, once all of the statistical choices are made, you get to name your character, choose his or her portrait from several different options per race (these are all animated with the character blinking, closing their eyes when you camp, and moving their mouths when they talk), and then select their voice and personality. The voice and personality options are surprisingly deep, with nine different personality types (aggressive, chaotic, kind, intellectual, cunning, laidback, burly, eccentric, and loner) and two different voices for each personality type for each gender, for a total of 38 different voices. Each voice within each personality, both male and female, not only sounds different, but also has its own different lines and way of speaking. Your party members don't really banter with each other or other NPCs, but they comment on a bunch of different things at different times, like reacting to winning a fight, or upon entering certain areas, or after talking to certain NPCs. The voice acting really brings these custom characters to life, and it's such a great feeling when you're able to find the perfect match for how you envision each of your characters.

Assembling a party from the pre-made characters. 

There are so many good choices to make when it comes to creating characters that you can spend 30-60 minutes making your party at the start of the game, and then come back after finishing the game to spend another 30-60 minutes making an entirely different party. It doesn't have to be that long and complicated if you don't want it to, however; you could spend as little as 30 seconds selecting party members from any of the 15 pre-built characters and be on your way, or use them as guidelines for speeding up the process of making your own. You have eight slots in your party, but you can only fill six of them to form your core party; the remaining two slots can be filled by recruitable NPCs that you meet while exploring Dominus, if you desire. These characters have fixed starting stats, and most of them have limitations about where they'll go with you, but they otherwise behave like regular party members; you get full control over their actions in combat, their equipment, and you can even manage their level-ups.

Party composition is important in this game, and you get a ton of possible options for what kind of party you want to make, with several different types of melee fighters, ranged fighters, spellcasters, and support classes. When creating your party, you might want to consider having a balanced spread of roles, but you also have to think about what weapons different party members will use, and how you'll arrange party members in your formation. Older Wizardry games had you set your characters up in a front row or back row, with melee fighters up front and ranged classes in the back; since Wizardry 8 takes place in a three-dimensional environment, and enemies can come at you from all directions, you have to set your party up in a circular formation that strikes a balance between protecting your squishier party members from the flanks and rear while also letting all your party members engage in critical combat areas at all times.

The combat formation is divided into four quadrants -- the front, rear, left, and right flanks -- with a protected center circle in the middle. You can place up to three party members in each region. Different weapons have different range values, with swords, maces, axes, wands, and daggers all being considered short range -- meaning they can only engage in combat zones directly in front of them -- while polearms, staves, flails, and certain greatswords are considered extended range, and can hit enemies two combat zones away. A dagger user on the left flank will serve as a meatshield for protecting your squishy mages in the center circle, but he'll only be able to attack enemies on the left flank, whereas a polearm user would be able to attack the left, front, or rear zones. Enemies likewise have different range values, with some enemy attacks being capable of penetrating your formation to hit enemies in the center or rear zones, and if your party members are turned to face enemies and get hit in the back, they take extra damage. Long range weapons (bows, crossbows, slings, guns, throwing weapons) have no zone restrictions but are partially affected by line of sight.

Fighting slimes: a fantasy-RPG classic. 

Combat happens in the real three-dimensional space of the environment -- there are no random encounters, and you're not warped to a separate battlefield to carry out the fight. Typically, you see enemies wandering around the environment, and when you or they get close enough you go into combat mode, which can either be set to turned-based (where the action pauses at the start of each round so that you can issue commands) or continuous (where combat flows at a continual pace, your party members automatically following their last given order when their initiative order comes up). As an old-school "blobber," your party is represented in the 3D space as a single "blob," with the first-person view of the camera representing your party's central position and facing. So if you're fighting a group of rats, combat will initiate while they're still at range and you can queue up a "move" action to move your party towards them, or let your ranged fighters take shots while they come to you; they'll likely start to surround your party, and you may have to move party members around within the formation or change the formation's facing as the fight goes on to ensure everyone can participate at all times.

Combat can end up being incredibly tactical, with you having to make decisions about who should be targeting what enemies and adjusting your positioning as the situation demands. You can even use the environment to your advantage; if you put your back against a wall, you can condense your formation, knowing that your back is safely protected, by putting your ranged fighters in the back and your melee fighters in the center circle and side flanks, thereby allowing everyone (even short-ranged fighters on the flanks) to attack the front; if you set yourself up in a narrow hallway you can funnel enemies towards you from one direction and blast multiple enemies with AOE cone attacks. Spells target either a single enemy or an entire group of enemies, or else have an area of effect depending on where you aim them. Some spells are cones and shoot out a 45-degree wedge in whatever direction you aim it, while others are radius spells that hit all enemies within a certain range of wherever you place the center of the spell. Like other types of ranged attacks, these are affected by line of sight -- you can't shoot around corners, and enemies behind obstacles (or other enemies) are sometimes safe from damage or being targeted.

Wizardry 8 may take the cake for the best party-based combat system I've ever experienced in an RPG. As much as I enjoy the action-point combat system of the original Fallout games, I think I might like Wizardry 8's a little better. There's a lot that you can do within the system: changing your party's formation and facing, moving into different positions to use the environment to your advantage, assigning different targets, switching weapons to reach different targets, using any of the dozens of potions, bombs, and powders to buff your party or attack/debuff enemies, and casting any of about 100 different spells with dozens of different functions. This isn't a combat system where you just spam attack commands and wait for the battle to end; every round has some kind of engaging decision to be made.

Getting attacked by bandits on the road.

Unfortunately, combat is also the reason I almost quit playing after making it a mere 18 hours through the game's 80-100 hour campaign. While the combat has a lot of stimulating tactical depth to it, with clever implementation of turn-based systems in a 3D world, there is, frankly, way too much of it in this game, to the point that the fun and satisfaction gets replaced with frustrating tedium. There are two problems with Wizardry 8's combat: constant respawn and enemy level-scaling. If you spend an hour exploring an area, killing everything in the process, when you inevitably have to come back through that area (you're going to be constantly running back and forth between locations as quests demand) the entire map will have been repopulated with random new spawns who'll aggro you from all the way across the map, seemingly, to force you into combat. That wouldn't be such a problem if the fights were quick and simple, but they're not, because enemies scale up to your level (to a certain point) so that you're basically always fighting evenly-leveled enemies that give you an even challenge in every single fight, even if you've improved four levels since the last time you were in that area.

It's worth mentioning that enemies only ever scale up to your level, never down, and that only applies to the random clusters of enemies that are spawned periodically to keep each area "active." Even then, there appears to be an upper limit to different areas for how high enemies will scale; in the starting areas, enemies might only scale up to level 12, whereas later areas might scale up to level 30. So when you come back to the starting areas at level 20 you might finally have an easier times with the enemies. Besides these random spawns, each area also has a number of set encounters with enemies who have fixed levels. The bandits occupying the ruined house in the northern wilderness will always be level 8-9, the golem guarding the bridge to the mountain wilderness will always be level 14, and so on. These enemies do not respawn when they're killed, and the fact that they start out higher level than you and don't scale down means there's always incentive to level up and get stronger because you want to beat these enemies to complete quests, or to gain access to new areas, or to get pre-placed items and equipment.

That constant respawn of "trash" mobs (who really aren't trash, since they always put up an evenly-matched fight) really wears on your soul, however, and it's especially bad in the early areas of the game when you're stuck wandering pointless roads that only exist to spread major locations out and to force you into combat. After making it to the first town, I decided to head south and spent forever struggling against really tough enemies, and so decided to reload my save and head north, instead. I made it pretty far that way but then reached an area where one of my recruitable party members wouldn't go, and so I turned around and went back to town, bought better gear, and set out south again. I made it further that time, but then got diseased by some rats, which forced me to turn around and go back to town to cure the disease. I set out south again and made it even further before running into an NPC who gave me a quest that sent me right back to town. Meanwhile I'd been playing for nearly six hours and I'd gotten nowhere and done virtually nothing except fight endless random spawns.

A Screaming Head attacking the party.

It's not just because the fights are so frequent (they even spawn in towns, a cardinal sin as far I'm concerned), but also because they tend to drag on forever. Combat is incredibly slow, with enemy attack animations taking much longer than they need to, and with awkward pauses between every enemy activating. If you're going to play Wizardry 8 you basically need to install a mod that speeds up combat; by default, a fight with a group of common trash mobs can take as long as 30 minutes if you're stuck waiting for 20 of them to activate their painfully slow animations one-by-one every single round. That's not fun or challenging, it's just annoying, and it gets even worse when you consider how many status effects exist in this game. There's poison, blindness, terror, irritation, nausea, disease, insanity, turncoat, slow, swallowed, paralyzed, webbed/stuck, drained, unconscious, hexed, and it's just an obnoxious pain in the ass dealing with any of these, especially when you consider that seemingly half of the enemies in the game spam these obnoxious status effects AOE on the entire party.

You improve your characters' abilities through a combination of using them and by allocating skill points during each level-up. In combat, this means your tank will automatically improve his sword and shield skills just by attacking and being attacked, which will be happening every single round. For mages, who have a limited amount of spell points that they can spend before resting, you can't always afford to spam spells every round because you'll quickly run out of spell points and have to rest, which causes enemies in the area to respawn. And yet you kind of have to rest, especially in the beginning, to recuperate health and spell points, as well as to maximize the amount of learning you get for spells and abilities being used in combat, which puts you an infinite loop of having to rest from fighting so many enemies, which spawns more enemies which leads to more resting.

Although most random enemies are scaled up to your level, you occasionally run into problems with random fights being randomly too hard. There's a notorious glitch that somehow causes tougher enemies to spawn if you enter a zone at a lower or higher level than the developer intended, which is especially easy to trigger when leaving the starting area. Some areas are naturally meant to be a higher level, but I had a few occasions when I entered an area I'd been to previously and suddenly found myself at level 12 fighting level 16 enemies, and then had to leave the area, rest for 24 hours, and return with new, more reasonable spawns. Even when you're fighting enemies the same level as you, some enemies are just naturally more difficult than others, like when you have to fight Frightmares who spam AOE insanity and turncoat attacks on your party, or plants who spam AOE poison, nausea, blindness, and irritation. And with some areas consisting solely of narrow roads, you sometimes run into issues where multiple groups of enemies end up clumped together and you're forced to fight two or three groups at once.

Fighting pixie sprites in the treetop village of Trynton.

These kinds of fights aren't tough to reinforce level design (ie, there's really good loot hidden here so you gotta beat this tough enemy to get it) or a type of hierarchical ecosystem (ie, enemies are part of a food chain and you have to work your way up the ranks) -- they're just randomly tough. Consequently, you have to avoid a lot of fights for really no good reason; it's not like you're saving those fights for later when you know you'll be stronger because those enemies won't even be there in an hour, and you're not sneaking past enemies to reach places you shouldn't be yet because the scaling, randomized enemies make it harder to tell if an area's meant to be done early-, mid- or late-game. In Gothic, for instance, it's satisfying to sneak past tough enemies because you're deliberately sequence-breaking with a high expectation of finding end-game rewards for taking on a tough challenge early; in Wizardry 8, it doesn't feel like you're exploiting the game for your own good, but rather like you're just avoiding gameplay and skipping parts that would just be unbearable otherwise.

Wizardry 8 wears its old-school roots on its sleeve, as is evident by how brutally unforgiving it can be. This is a game where, if you make a mistake, you're going to pay for it. If a party member dies in combat, they'll stay dead unless you have an extremely rare, super-expensive resurrection powder handy. You get two of these in the starting area if you're really thorough about exploring, and if someone dies after you've used up both of those powders, then you have no choice but to load your save or continue on without one of your party members until you can afford more powder. Likewise, if a character gets poisoned and you have no more potions or spell points to cure it, then you might be forced to let them die. Most conditions will naturally wear off after a certain amount of time, but other conditions last indefinitely until they're cured; if a character is diseased long enough it'll start permanently lowering their stats, which will not revert when the disease is cured.

There's absolutely no hand-holding in this game, and this is no more evident than in the main quest, which expects you to figure out on your own what you're actually supposed to do and how to do it. The setup is so vague that it doesn't even serve as a good hook: your spaceship crashes on a foreign planet, so you just start exploring the nearby monastery, where an android gives you your main quest to "ascend from Ascension Peak," as it's written in your journal. And you just kind of stare at that going "what?" Obviously you're meant to collect the Chaos Moliri, the Astral Dominae, and the Destinae Dominus, and take them to Ascension Peak so that you can complete the rite of Ascension to reach the Cosmic Circle to become a Cosmic Lord and gain control of the Cosmic Forge, but all of that's kind of gibberish if you haven't played the previous two Wizardry games, and it's not clear in the beginning what all of that actually means, or how it applies to actual gameplay.

Talking to a T'Rang about their history.

The game expects you to figure all of this out by talking to people and asking questions. Wizardry 8 uses a classic dialogue system that doesn't give you any prompts for what to say, but rather gives you an input field where you have to type in key words for topics that you want to discuss. It's up to you to pay attention to what a character says and to pick out the key parts of what they say to get more information out of them, and to remember to bring up important topics that they may not even broach without prompting. The game's pacing suffers a bit in the beginning because it's a non-linear open-world and you have no idea where to go or what to do, so it feels like you're just aimlessly wandering around looking for hints or clues to follow, but it ends up being really satisfying once you finally start to get a grip on the world's structure and what you're supposed to be doing.

Obtaining the Destinae Dominus occupies the bulk of your time in the main quest, as it spans from the very beginning of the game to as much as three-quarters of the way through, depending on what order you do things. You learn at the start of the game that it used to be held in the monastery, but that a man named Marten stole it some hundred years ago, and it's been missing ever since. For the rest of the game you're following a trail of breadcrumbs by talking to people and finding key items, trying to piece together the history of where he went and what he did, which involves things like breaking into a fortified castle and solving puzzles to find a secret room that contains his old journal, visiting the Trynnie in the treetop village of Trynton and becoming enlightened so that you can gain the Helm of Serenity (which prevents the party from going insane when you eventually get the Destinae Dominus), and eventually tracking down Marten's ghost in the remote sea caves and convincing him to give you the Destinae Dominus.

The game does a really good job of making you feel like a lost, hopeless caravan stranded on a strange planet, and then letting you feel the sense of progression as you explore the world, become more familiar with its layout and its inhabitants, get stronger, complete quests, and start to gain mastery over and understanding of the game. It's technically an open-world, in the sense that you can go virtually anywhere at any time and complete quests in any non-linear order you want, for the most part, but it's divided into smaller regions connected by loading screens. This, I feel, gives the world a good sense of structure, with clearly defined regions that have spatial relations to other regions. It also helps to give you a sense of direction; after getting out of the monastery you really only have two directions to go in, which will progressively branch out into more and more directions, which gives you a chance to become familiar with each area before moving on to the next.

Examining a skeletal corpse in the cemetery.

Building familiarity with the world is key, because you'll frequently need to backtrack to previous areas to complete different tasks. That can be kind of annoying because of the incessant combat slowing you down, but after a certain point you unlock fast-travel options that let you warp to specific locations, and you can even learn spells that let you create your own warp points. And it really is satisfying once you reach that point when everything clicks, and you realize that, because you did this one thing over here, that means you can go back to that other place to do something new, or that this strange orb you just picked up might be what you need to power the computer at the spaceport, which you know you need to get working to find the coordinates for the Dark Savant's ship, which you need for a faction quest.

Dominus is inhabited by several different factions, many of whom you can join and work for over the course of the game. The factions consist principally of the Higardi, the human population living in Arnika; the Trynnie and Rattkin, two rodent species who live in the treetops of Trynton; the Umpani, a militant species of humanoid rhinoceri who have set up base camp near Mount Gigas; the T'Rang, an insect-like alien-looking species who live in the advanced sub-network of metallic tunnels; and the Rapax, a horned demon-looking species who've aligned themselves with the Dark Savant. Some faction interactions will be necessary as part of the main quest, but others -- like picking a side between the Umpani-T'Rang feud, or becoming a Rapax templar -- are completely optional, however some elements of the story will be a little different depending on what you do.

Quests aren't the most sophisticated thing ever, since this isn't an RPG with a bunch of dialogue options or multiple different ways to solve every quest. Rather, the quests tend to give you a vague objective (e.g., "find the coordinates to the Dark Savant's ship" or "ascend from Ascension Peak"), and you have to use your own problem-solving and detective work to figure out the solution. Finding the Dark Savant's ship coordinates, for instance, requires exploring enough to figure out that there's a computer terminal in Arnika that can read black box data from downed ships, and that there's another ship that got shot down in Bayjin Bay, and that if you can retrieve that ship's black box and bring it back to the Arnika spaceport, you can get information to feed into the scanner, which needs a spherical orb that can be found elsewhere to work. Once you get the scanner working you need to figure out the right commands to get the coordinates, and then return to the quest-giver.

Random guards patrolling the empty streets of Arnika.

There aren't a lot of NPCs in this world, mind you, which means there aren't a terribly large number of quests to complete. In fact, the world can actually feel somewhat barren and lifeless, since most of what you do in the game is exploring environments and fighting enemies. The first town, for instance -- the most populated location in the game -- only has about 10 people to talk to. These are mostly vendors and important service providers that are absolutely essential for gameplay purposes, plus a couple recruitable NPCs who're involved in a few quests, all of whom you can talk to about virtually any topic with varying degrees of useful responses. The rest of the town is completely abandoned, with dozens of empty houses and no one wandering the streets except for a few guards. The lack of ambient NPCs is explained thematically by the town evacuating after the Dark Savant landed and erected a giant tower nearby with a bomb that could destroy half the planet, but in actuality it's probably because of budget or performance issues.

Other inhabited locations have even fewer interactive NPCs -- the T'Rang headquarters has all of three NPCs in it, I believe, one of whom you can't even access until later. It kind of broke my immersion at first, feeling like I was wandering around this entire world populated seemingly only by random monster spawns, but after a while I realized the lack of other people actually contributes a lot to the game's atmosphere. Much like playing Dark Souls, there's this feeling playing Wizardry 8 where you're just on your own for so much of the game, left to your own devices to survive in a foreign land. The world may feel kind of desolate and barren, but that ends up being part of its charm. In fact, exploring the world actually does feel a lot like Dark Souls, in terms of the way the world is designed and how you have to poke around and figure things out for yourself, except the environments are a little more spacious and open.

The game is definitely at its best when you're in structured areas like the monastery, or Marten's Bluff, or the sea caves, or any of the other locations that function sort of like quasi-dungeons. These are the type of areas where you have to explore a more complex layout, searching for items and solutions to puzzles and the like, which is far more engaging, I find, than wandering around a wilderness area or walking down roads dodging random encounters. It kind of sucks, therefore, that after escaping the monastery it takes a while before you get to the next "dungeon." I was absolutely loving the game during the monastery, and then the experience started to go rapidly downhill as I got stuck fighting endless groups of random enemies as I wandered around open areas and linear roads trying to figure out what to do next. That was when I almost quit, but fortunately I stuck through it and started enjoying the game a lot more once I got back to the better parts of its gameplay.

Trying not to fall into the deadly pit of lava.

While Wizardry 8 feels like an old-school game with more modern features and presentation, it certainly doesn't have the polished feel of modern games. Even for its time, having been released in 2001, Wizardry 8 feels a little rough around the edges, in large part because the developer, SirTech, was running out of money and in desperate need to finish the game. There are several quests and events that they obviously started programming but then never finished; every now and then you pick up a quest that you can never really complete (in one case, because the quest-giver simply disappears from the game), or characters say they're going to do something and then never do. On a few occasions there are quest solutions built in to the game without the actual quest ever being given, like if you bring an NPC an item then you'll get the rewards, but there's absolutely no dialogue exchanged before or after, and so there's no way of knowing you're supposed to bring that item to him unless you use a guide or use trial-and-error spamming items on every NPC.

That unnecessarily obscure design principle (unintentional, in that case) applies to the game's hidden easter eggs, the so-called "retro dungeons." These are hidden dungeons inspired by the classic wire-frame design of older Wizardry games, that you can access by pressing runes in certain areas and then bringing a specific item to a specific location. You then warp into one of three retro dungeons, where you have to follow a series of grid-based rooms and hallways mapping the layout yourself (the automap doesn't work), fighting monsters, opening doors, and navigating warp tiles to reach a boss and find the exit. These retro dungeons are an amusing distraction, but they're ultimately pointless, and it's kind of perplexing how impossibly obscure they are to find without a guide. You get absolutely no indication what pressing the runes is actually supposed to do, and there's no way to know what item you're supposed to use to actually trigger the dungeons, short of carrying every item in the game with you and trying every single one of them.

Some of the controls are still a little cumbersome and obtuse, so you're better off remapping keybindings at the very start, and it takes some studying of the user-interface to figure out what exactly everything does, and how you're supposed to do things. It took me a moment to figure out how to use items, for instance, because the usual double-click, right-click, and click-and-drag-to-portrait methods don't work. Rather, you have to click the "use item" button in the bottom bar and then click on the item. It all makes sense, but you have to familiarize yourself with everything. That's pretty easy to do, fortunately, because of the abundance of tool-tips that let you know what everything does if you hover your mouse over it. For things like attributes, skills, items, monsters, and so on, you can right-click on them to get a pop-up window that shows all of their stats and explains exactly what they do.

The inventory screen.

As an old-school RPG everything you do comes down to how good your characters' stats are. Mages, for instance, must train in one of four different spellbooks, and also with individual realms within those spellbooks. A mage, for instance, would need to train with the wizardry spellbook in order to learn higher-level spells, and his proficiency in the fire realm determines how many spellpoints he has for casting fire spells, as well as his success rate at casting fire spells. A character's mythology skill determines how good they are at identifying enemies to know their health values, attacks, and resistances, while a character's artifacts skill determines how good they are at identifying items to know their stats and what they actually do. Even things like picking locks and disarming traps, which have their own fairly decent mini-games, ultimately come down to your character's skill level.

Picking locks is relatively simple, and simply involves clicking on tumblers with a random chance, based on your character's skill, that that tumbler will stay in place without dislodging others. There's no player skill involved whatsoever, which I appreciate, but the whole thing is just a matter of clicking things enough times until random chance lets you succeed, which, given enough time, means you can eventually pick any lock if you're lucky. And that can be pretty boring just sitting there for a minute or two mindlessly clicking things waiting for random success. Disarming traps is much more interesting, however; mechanically, all you're doing is pressing the correct buttons from eight different choices, but thematically you're using process of elimination to determine what type of trap you're dealing with so that you know whether you need to disable the spring, or cut a wire, and so on. Like picking locks, it's not super complicated, but it does take just a little bit of brain power to solve, and it makes you feel a little more involved in the process.

Wizardry 8 has a lot of great mechanical depth to it, with one of the most robust party creation systems and one of the best implementations of turn-based combat in any RPG. The story, quests, and adventure elements are a bit more subtle, but they also offer plenty to enjoy in terms of the satisfaction that comes from using your own problem-solving skills to figure out how everything works and what you have to do to solve everything. It's not an RPG about selecting dialogue options and having multiple solutions to every quest, but the process of getting from the beginning to the end of different quests is always an adventure. It falls very much into the same category of games like Fallout 1+2, Gothic 1+2, Arcanum, Arx Fatalis, and so on, in terms of RPG systems and world design, so if you enjoyed any of those games then Wizardry 8 is definitely worth checking out. It's also a good example of how older 80s and 90s computer-RPGs used to be, except done up in a much more modern, playable skin. It's just a shame that the excessive combat almost ruins the whole experience, and that SirTech basically ran out of time and money to properly finish and polish everything.

[Note: I didn't take my own screenshots for this game, so all the images in this review are from the Wizardry 8 section of HardcoreGaming101's retrospective on the Wizardry series, a highly educational read that I recommend checking out for more historical context on this game and the series in general.]

Dark Souls 3: The Ringed City - DLC Review

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The Ringed City is the second and final DLC for Dark Souls 3, and supposedly the final piece of content that will ever be produced in the Dark Souls series. Its story continues where Ashes of Ariandel left off; after defeating the final boss of the Painted World of Ariandel, you gain access to a bonfire that warps you to a new area, the Dreg Heap, where you go on a brief journey through the dilapidated ruins of past Dark Souls environments en route to the Ringed City, where Slave Knight Gael (who beckoned you into Ariandel) hopes to find the Dark Soul of Man so that his niece, the painter from Ashes of Ariandel, can use it to create a new world.

This DLC introduces two new areas (the Dreg Heap and the Ringed City itself), four new bosses (one of which is optional), a new covenant, all new enemies, plus a bunch of new weapons, armor sets, and spells. As part of the release, FromSoft also released a patch for the base game which tweaks some balance issues (mainly buffing strength weapons and heavy armor) and which also adds two new maps to the PVP arena, which is only accessible if you've purchased either of the two DLCs. The first DLC, Ashes of Ariandel, felt a little too short and underwhelming to recommend to anyone but die-hard fans; for the same price, The Ringed City offers over twice as much content, a lot of which is pretty unique stuff that's never really been seen or done before in a Souls game, so it's pretty easy to recommend.

Facing off with a ringwraith in the Ringed City. 

Unfortunately, The Ringed City basically requires Ashes of Ariandel to make sense, since it's a continuation of that DLC's story. Not that there's a lot of prominent storytelling in this DLC (or any Souls games, for that matter), but the whole point of Gael being in the Ringed City is established in Ashes of Ariandel -- if you haven't met him in the previous DLC, then he's just some random guy who shows up at the end, and the ending is almost completely meaningless to you. In fact, you can't even trigger the DLC's proper ending without owning Ashes of Ariandel, because it requires you to go back there to talk to the painter with the item you obtain from the final boss. So really, if you want to play The Ringed City (which I'd definitely recommend) then you need to shell out the extra money for Ashes of Ariandel (or rather, the season pass, since it's $5 cheaper to buy them bundled together).

Per usual, the story is so incredibly vague this time around, with no clear explanation for what's going on. As the final bit of DLC for the entire series, I'm sure a lot of people were hoping for some answers to some of the nagging lore questions that have been around since the first Dark Souls, but this DLC may actually pose more questions than it answers. It does shed some new light on Gwyn, the Furtive Pygmy, what was going on before the first Dark Souls, what goes into creating a world, and perhaps most ultimately, what the titular "Dark Soul" actually is, but it does so in typical Souls fashion where everything is so intentionally vague and cryptic that it feels like anything you could gleam from this DLC would be just speculation and fan fiction. Still, this is the first time in any Souls game, I think, that I found myself actually caring about the lore and story enough to study item descriptions and actually think about what it all means, and that's probably because it tries to go full circle by relating back to the first Dark Souls, as opposed to just adding yet more lore on top of an already convoluted mythology.

Talking to an NPC at the top of the Dreg Heap.

I really like what they did with the Dreg Heap, for instance -- environments from previous games are built on top of each other, seemingly symbolizing that each new Age of Fire creates a new world over-top of the previous one. So in order to get to the Ringed City (which presumably predates Dark Souls 1), you have to basically go back in time through the series, starting with the High Wall of Lothric from Dark Souls 3, then descending to the Earthen Peak from Dark Souls 2, and finally descending to the Firelink Shrine from Dark Souls 1. All of these are portrayed as dilapidated, crumbling ruins that have endured thousands of years of erosion, and they get progressively more dilapidated and unrecognizable the deeper you go. Some parts look like they're just barely hanging on from falling into the abyss, and it serves as a really cool visual symbol for how time progresses in this universe.

The level design in this DLC has some interesting things going on, too, with a lot of hidden areas that really test your observation skills and willingness to risk your death in dangerous scenarios. A lot of routes branch into one-way paths so you have to really think about where you want to go, and it encourages you to go through some areas multiple times to get and see everything. I consider myself a pretty thorough explorer, and I was surprised at how many things I missed in my playthrough, after going online to look things up.

Having now made four Souls games and six DLC packs, a lot of stuff has gotten to feel incredibly similar, with large chunks of each game essentially feeling like a rehash of something from a previous game -- some things are straight up copy-and-pasted from game to game. The Ringed City, somehow, manages to feel fresh and interesting for at least half of it, even though the other half implements yet another iteration of a poison swamp, Ornstein, Patches, a fire-breathing dragon guarding a bridge, the Old Monk boss fight from Demon's Souls, and so on. I was pleasantly surprised, therefore, to encounter so many things that I hadn't seen before, like the angels that hover above certain areas like sentry turrets raining constant laser beams from above, who can't be killed unless you find a hidden controller/host-thing somewhere in the level, or the giant summoner dudes who summon hordes of orange phantom archers and black knights who can't be touched, requiring you to navigate your way to the summoner and kill him while dodging the phantoms.

"Hmmm, what's going on here? Aaaaand I'm dead."

This new stuff, unfortunately, is incredibly tedious and frustrating. The laser angels and phantom summoners are basically instant death machines that require you to die repeatedly just to figure out the solution of how to beat them. That's true of many Souls enemies, particularly bosses, and these enemies function a lot like mini-bosses in the form of environmental hazards, but unlike a well-designed boss, you don't usually learn anything helpful about how they function or what you're supposed to do when you die to them. Against one of the angels, I died 3-4 times just trying to explore the area to see if I could the controller, another 3-4 times trying really unconventional stuff that I figured probably wouldn't work, and another 2-3 times trying to get an item. Once I finally figured out where I had to go, I died 3-4 times trying to drop down from the right, which it turns out you can't do, and then another two times trying to drop down from the left before finally getting there.

That was about 30 minutes of constant dying against an enemy that I couldn't even fight back against, very early in the DLC, and it's immediately followed by another angel in the poison swamp. The first one you encounter is at least fair about showing you where the controller is so that you have an idea of where to go; the second and third ones are so well-hidden that you have to scour the entire map top to bottom, checking all kinds of unconventional areas while getting hammered by undodgeable, hyper-accurate, rapid-fire laser beams. Once you make it out of the Dreg Heap and into the Ringed City, you're presented with yet another one of these scenarios, this time with the giant summoner dude whose archers are completely invulnerable and one-shot you if they catch you in the open. Then, you have two encounters with a fire-breathing dragon who, if he doesn't kill you with the fire, will likely knock you off the bridge and into a pit of death.

Going Sunbro to help people with the angel in the poison swamp.

Each one of those scenarios takes you out of the usual Dark Souls gameplay of exploring an area and fighting enemies to put you into a cover-based puzzle-platformer scenario where any little mistake leads to an instant death. And that's not always very fun, especially since there's no real challenge in the actual gameplay. Take the angels, for instance -- they basically just kill you automatically if you walk out from cover, and the whole gameplay premise is moving from cover to cover while trying to find the hidden controller. There are hardly any enemies around them; they're very nearly the only threat in the area. So imagine if the angels didn't do that constant, lethal barrage of lasers and instead shot more sporadically while you had to fight enemies; that would involve spatial awareness, watching the angel out of the corner of your eye or listening for attack sounds, and then timing your dodges properly. That would be challenging while allowing you to avoid death through skill, while also allowing you to actually explore the area.

I like to take these games slowly and explore everywhere possible, but the angels don't allow you to do that all. They basically force you to run straight through an area, running from cover to cover, never giving you time to stop and look around, while also forcing to stop playing the game for 30 seconds at a time while you wait for it to stop its barrage and turn around so that you can get a head start on the next run. And the whole thing is pure trial-and-error, dying to figure out what their range is, dying to figure out if you can dodge or outrun their attacks, dying to figure out what gives you sufficient cover, and dying to figure out the correct route to the controller. They're just not fun to deal with, and I wish they'd been designed better. At least they stay permanently dead once you kill the controller, even if you reset the area by resting at a bonfire, so each one is only a pain in your ass once.

Fighting Darkeater Midir. What a great boss fight. 

The four bosses, on the other hand, are all pretty good, and may be reason enough to buy the DLC all on their own. The first one may be the only two-enemy boss in the entire series that didn't give me fits, and it reuses the Ornstein and Smough mechanic where the order in which you kill them determines the type of enemy you'll be facing in the second phase. The second boss is basically the Old Monk boss fight from Demon's Souls, where the boss is another player summoned into the arena with buffed defenses and unique abilities. The third boss is optional and involves yet another dragon fight, but this one is easily the best in the entire series, basically what the Ancient Dragon from Dark Souls 2should've been. The final boss is like a supercharged version of Artorias and may be my new favorite boss just because of how fun he is to fight and how epic the fight feels. He and the dragon are some of the hardest bosses of the entire series, but unlike most of the other "tough" bosses they feel totally fair, and so it felt incredibly satisfying once I mastered their movesets and was able to take them down.

There's a lot of content in this DLC (over twice as much as in Ashes of Ariandel) but the pacing is still a little weird, with three of the four bosses kind of clumped together near the very end of the DLC. After the "Old Monk" boss it basically goes right into the final boss; it warps you into this huge desert wasteland with a few crumbling ruins nearby and a giant castle in the distance, and so I was thinking I still had an entire third act to complete which would involve making my way to the castle and then exploring it. And then I wandered a short distance and stumbled into a boss whom I didn't even realize was the final boss at that moment. There's really no buildup to the final boss, which makes him seem to come out of left field. You really should've had some kind of brief encounter with him somewhere earlier in the DLC, or else there should've been more NPCs talking about him to set the stage for you when the fight finally occurs. 

Welcome to the wasteland.

Continuing Dark Souls' tradition of being deliberately vague and obscure, there's a riddle that you need to solve to complete an NPC's quest line, which is a message carved into a random hallway that reads: "Show your humanity." And the solution, of course, is something you'd never be able to figure out short of consulting a guide or doing a bunch of trial-and-error trying every conceivable thing possible. I'm just going to go ahead and spoil it: you need to use a chameleon spell or white tree branch while standing in the swamp to camouflage yourself as a humanity phantom -- a thing that hasn't been in the series since Dark Souls 1. Maybe if they'd let you see a humanity phantom somewhere in the swamp then you'd have some kind of clue that turning into one was even possible; otherwise there's no logical correlation that would lead you to that solution. 

The ending is ... anticlimactic. The final boss is a random side-character with no buildup whatsoever, and there's not even a final cutscene -- it's just a few lines of dialogue. It might've been nice to have a more concrete resolution for the series, but this simple ending works by being completely true to the Dark Souls way of storytelling. Still, the process of getting there is pretty fun and satisfying, with some of the best bosses of Dark Souls 3 (or even the entire series) and some truly challenging scenarios -- even if you have to contend with occasionally bullshit level/enemy design -- that I think The Ringed City is definitely worth playing. 

The Problem With Open World Games, or "Why Open World Games Suck"

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The joint release of Horizon Zero Dawn and The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild -- two of the biggest and most ambitious open-world games ever made -- within days of each other has spawned a lot of discussion about which game handles the open world formula better, and which represents the future of open world gaming. I've not played either one so I won't be commenting on that issue directly. Instead I'll be giving my thoughts on open world games in general, based on observations and trends I've noticed in the open world games I've played over the past 15 years.

As the title already states, I have some major issues with open world games. It's not that I don't like them, or that they're all bad across the board -- in fact, many of my all-time favorite games are open world, or at least semi-open world. There are a lot of good things to like about open world games, hence why they've become so popular lately, but I feel like very few developers do the open world concept justice. It seems like most of the mainstream AAA open world games that I play end up subtly or outright disappointing me, and consequently I've grown apprehensive of games that consider their big open worlds to be their main selling point.

Let's start this negative critique on a positive note by first covering the good parts of open world design. The main appeal of these games, as I see it, is simply the freedom you have to explore and discover things all for yourself. They give you a strong feeling of control over the game, that you're the one in charge of deciding how they play out, able to tailor your gameplay experience to your own interests. There's usually a lot of different things to do in these games, so if you like some things and not others, then you can focus on the things you like and ignore the things you don't. For some people, the fun is simply in the curiosity of seeing something intriguing in the distance and going to investigate, along with the wonder of all the situations you find yourself in, often by pure happenstance. It's often possible to derive an emergent narrative for your character, unique to your own playthrough, based on where you go and what you do in these open environments.

A dragon flying around the hot springs in Skyrim.

A lot of these games also feature RPG elements (or are RPGs themselves), with you earning experience or talent points to invest in different skills and abilities that improve your character over the course of the game. While it's always fun to watch your character grow and evolve, that's typically where an open world game's dynamism begins and ends, since the worlds themselves usually remain pretty static from beginning to end. And that's one of my big problems with open world games; while their worlds are usually pretty large with a lot to do within them, they don't really change or react to what you do.

When a game tries to be truly open by allowing the player to go anywhere and do anything from the get-go, most of the content (quests, activities, locations, etc) typically ends up being completely isolated from everything else, with no consequence for anything outside of itself, because everything has to be designed to be completed by any type of character at any point in the game, no matter what you've done previously. It's really hard to write a complex series of inter-connected quests when the world is so spread out and players are likely to go in opposite directions and can pick up quests in any sequence, and you can't have quests radically altering the state of the game world because that could interfere with other quests, which is probably why big open world games don't do this. A lot of games' side-missions don't even play out in the actual world map, instead sending you to a separate, instanced version of it that only exists for the duration of the mission.

The worlds are made as big as they are for the simple purpose of spreading the content out, which typically does nothing but force you to walk long distances to reach the next Thing Worth Doing while wading through shallow, repetitive filler content like fighting random, pointless enemies or collecting random, pointless collectibles, or exploring simple, repetitive dungeons, or completing simple, repetitive fetch quests. The interest, usually, is in churning out as much stuff as possible instead of focusing on making that content unique and interesting -- quantity over quality. In a lot of cases you spend more time staring at the mini-map than actually exploring the world, because the world itself is so bland and featureless that you look for ways to bypass it.

Surverying the city from above in Assassin's Creed 2

It's also hard to tell a good, compelling main story when it, by pure necessity -- like everything else in the game -- is made to be ignored. People often consider it high praise when they say they played a game for a hundred or more hours before even touching the main quest, but to me that's bad quest design if a major, important quest-line isn't interesting enough for people to want to follow through with it. The impact of the main quest is also broken when there's supposed to be some important sense of urgency, but then there's really no threat or consequence if you go do something else instead. You can fix that by removing some of the urgency and giving players a non-linear set of goals to accomplish, but that can be even less compelling since you've chopped the story into a bunch of self-contained, interchangeable bits, with kind of stagnant pacing that leaves you on the same set of objectives for the vast majority of the game.

The result of all of this is an open world sandbox game that feels too much like an offline, single-player MMO, since many open world games actually share a lot of common design elements with MMOs -- huge, sprawling landscapes that force you to spend 5-10 minutes holding down the forward key to get anywhere; clusters of randomly respawning basic enemies spread across the landscape; simplistic quest design that involves a bunch of item-fetching and monster-slaying; a static world that doesn't change based on your actions within it; crafting systems that require farming a bunch of resources; pointless collectibles for the sake of padding out content; and a central leveling system all about grinding repetitive tasks to get stronger. Playing a poorly-made single-player open world game is never as bad as running around a dead, empty server in an MMO, but it can evoke similar feelings.

A properly-designed open world game gives you all of the positive elements of open world design (freedom, non-linear exploration, discovery, emergent narratives, immersive worlds, rewarding choices, a personalized gameplay experience) without all the negative elements (shallow, repetitive, inconsequential content designed to waste your time to build up the illusion of a bigger, deeper world). The easiest way to accomplish this is simply to scale back the size of the world; we don't need a playing area the size of a small country to have a grand, epic adventure with lots of things to do. By putting the focus on quality instead of quantity, you'll offer a more engaging and more rewarding experience for the player, even if the world isn't quite as big and there isn't quite as much stuff to do within in.

Part of the harbor city of Khorinis from Gothic 2.

A game like Gothic 2 is a mere fraction the size of Skyrim, and yet its world is more densely packed with interesting content to explore everywhere you look, without a hint of repetitive content padding, while still offering a ton of completely open space to explore and a substantial 80-100 hours of gameplay. It also has a main story that runs in tandem with the side-quests and world exploration; you have a ton of freedom to go off and do whatever you want, but at certain points you're required to advance the main story, which keeps the game's momentum moving forward with an engaging pace, opens new areas of the world, and actually causes it to change dynamically over the course of the game. In other games, you help some farmers drive some bandits off of their property, and that would be it for the rest of the game; in Gothic, you come back later and things have changed, requiring new input to address the new situation. It creates this feeling of a more living, breathing world where it's worth going everywhere -- and even back to previously "completed" areas -- and trying to do everything you can.

Vampire: The Masquerade - Bloodlines isn't technically an open world game, since it takes place in a series of hub areas (I guess you'd say it's semi-open world), but this type of design still gives you a lot of areas to explore and lets you complete quests in a non-linear order. You unlock each area as part of the main quest, which allows everything in each area to be designed around the knowledge that the player will be doing things in close proximity to each other. Quests actually overlap and things in the environment relate to one another; you hear about a grisly murder on the news, and it gets referenced in an unrelated side-quest. If you go to the scene of the crime you can pick up more information, and then another quest will task you with finding the killer. Afterwards, the news reports change to reflect this new development in the story, and the quest continues on into other hub areas before eventually requiring you to return to the starting area. Instead of just being one linear quest from Point A to Point B, it's a complex web that permeates much of the starting area and has lasting consequences on the story.

Compare these games to something like Skyrim, or Red Dead Redemption, or Assassin's Creed 2 -- three games by some of the industry's biggest hitters when it comes to open world games. They're all somewhat older, but I've not played any of these designers' more recent games, and both Gothic 2 and Vampire Bloodlines are years older than these games, anyway. Skyrim's open world is filled with repetitive dungeons that are all virtually the same and "radiant quests" generated by a computer algorithm, completely devoid of any soul. Red Dead Redemption's open world is filled with repetitive random encounters and side-missions that take you completely out of the open world, where none of your actions will have any consequence once you're finished. Assassin's Creed 2's open world is filled with repetitive item collecting, mundane side-missions, and an economic system where earning money is a practically worthless reward.

Overlooking Touissant in The Witcher 3: Blood & Wine

The actual maps in each game consist of huge, sprawling landscapes that can take a lifetime-and-a-half to traverse, the bulk of which is occupied by ... basically nothing. Of course there are random animals to hunt, random enemies to fight, random sights to see, random people you probably can't talk to, random quests to complete, random collectibles to collect, random loot to find, random mini-games to play, random events to resolve, and so on, but this stuff is meaningless busy work designed to pad the game with extra Things To Do, often completely inconsequential whether you do them or not. These kinds of activities are usually fun for a little while and in small doses, but in the context of a 15-square mile map, where you'll be spending anywhere from 60 to 120 hours exploring, they can quickly become shallow and repetitive. Even a game as good as The Witcher 3, which is filled to the brim with interesting content and set a new bar for the genre in 2015, is ultimately diluted by the size of its world and the amount of content in it.

So when I see mainstream, AAA, big-budget games being hyped for how big their open worlds are (Breath of the Wild is said to be 10 times bigger than Skyrim), I have no other reaction but to wonder how the hell they're going to fill all that space. The trailer for Breath of the Wild shows a lot of really cool-looking stuff, but then it also shows a lot of wide open, empty spaces with absolutely nothing going on -- not even interesting terrain. I've watched gameplay footage where people spend ten whole minutes walking/gliding across the landscape just to get somewhere nearby, and they barely encounter anything interactive -- just a few measly enemies and a treasure chest with 10 arrows, maybe a flower or some apples here and there. I see that kind of thing happening and I think "that looks like such a huge waste of time."

And that's really my main concern with these open world games: that I'm going to end up wasting a lot of time traversing their stretched-out landscapes, doing a bunch of shallow repetitive filler content, and having to deal with a slow grind to improve and progress, when I could be playing a much more focused game that offers all (or many) of the same benefits of open world design while cutting out all of the fat. We don't need constantly bigger and bigger worlds; we need better quests, more rewarding exploration, more satisfying progression, worlds that change and react (not just superficially) to your presence within them -- we need quality instead of quantity. And again, it's not that I don't like open world games -- I really do enjoy them -- it's just that I don't think enough of them handle the open world formula as good as it should be executed, and these big-budget AAA games the ones largely to blame for that. Maybe Horizon Zero Dawn and/or Breath of the Wild buck that trend, but my cynical, pessimistic side tells me not to get my hopes up.

Darksiders: Derivative, Redundant, Uninspired

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Darksiders (2010) is essentially the love-child of The Legend of Zelda and Devil May Cry. Picture, if you will, a Zelda game in the vein of Ocarina of Time or Twilight Princess, set in modern times after a war between Heaven and Hell has wiped humanity off the face of the earth and left its landscape a ruined mess, in which you play as War -- one of the four horsemen of the apocalypse -- trying to clear his name after he's framed for prematurely bringing about the apocalypse, by going into Zelda-style dungeons to solve puzzles and unlock special items that will help you defeat the boss and unlock new areas of the world map, while fighting enemies using a combination of a giant sword, scythe, and pistol to build combo-chains Devil May Cry-style. That's Darksiders in a nutshell; it's a carbon copy so similar to those two games that a cynical person might say it straight up plagiarizes them, while others might say that it is more of an homage in the style of those two games.

I certainly qualify as a hardcore cynic, but I generally enjoy Zelda games and there aren't enough 3D Zelda-clones out there to scratch the Zelda itch while waiting years on end for a new Zelda game to come out (on a brand new console that you can't afford until the price drops several more years later). I was looking forward to playing Darksiders, hoping that it would offer that same Zelda feel but with a more mature theme full of grimdark imagery and bloody violence. Darksiders succeeds on both fronts, but at the same time it feels a little too rote and mechanical, as if the developer, Vigil Games, was so focused on reproducing the Zelda and Devil May Cry formulae that they forgot to put any of their own creativity into the game, thus leaving us with a perfectly functional and decently enjoyable game that's ultimately too derivative, redundant, and uninspired for its own good.

Let's get the Zelda comparisons out of the way first: virtually everything in this game (except for the combat and leveling system) is lifted directly from Zelda. It has the same type of world structure and progression, where you get a semi-open world to explore that expands as you gain key items from dungeons that not only are used to defeat the dungeon boss, but also unlock new areas of the world map. The dungeons themselves require you to solve environmental puzzles, usually involving the new item you just gained (with the usual pushing blocks and flipping switches), and you can find treasure chests that grant you a map of the dungeon's layout, a compass showing the location of all items in the dungeon, and keys to open locked doors. The world map has a lot of hidden areas to explore, encouraging you to go back to previous areas with new items to gain extra powerups.

Using the boomerang Crossblade to hit a switch above a door.

Other Zelda staples that appear in Darksiders (in some form or another): bombflowers, using bombs to blow up obstacles, the deku leaf, catching a draft with the deku leaf to fly higher, lighting torches on fire, the power glove, the hammer, climbing up or down vines, a horse that uses carrots to run faster, using a horse to cross a huge chasm, the Dark Link fight, the hookshot, the grappling hook, a Navi-esque companion, the Lens of Truth, the bow and arrow, the boomerang, heart piece containers, getting a full heart container for beating a boss, a blue teleport thingy after beating a boss, a magic meter, magic meter upgrades, using a musical instrument to open doors, earning money for breaking things in the environment, deku bulbs that launch you into the air, bosses with glowing weakpoints, bosses that always follow a scripted pattern, the master sword, collecting fragments to restore a mystical object, using consumable items from glass containers, going into a shadow realm to find and defeat a certain number of things to free important NPCs, plus probably many more that I'm forgetting or didn't notice.

Some of these comparisons are a bit of a stretch (the pistol is obviously not a direct copy of the bow and arrow, but it serves the same function) while others are somewhat incidental (like the blue teleport thingy that only shows up once, I think), but the point is to show that Vigil Games was deliberately trying to make Darksiders as close to Zelda as possible -- the only thing it's really missing is a princess that needs to be rescued. That's not necessarily a bad thing, however -- if you're going to directly copy another game, then you may as well copy one of the greatest game franchises in existence. The problem is that Darksiders brings absolutely nothing new to the table, since its only twists on the classic Zelda formula are things taken from yet other games -- Devil May Cry (or God of War if you prefer) and Portal.

The combat system is basically Devil May Cry, where you're using a variety of weapons and attacks to build a combo chain, swapping weapons mid-combo and ultimately trying to look as cool as possible while doing so. Left-clicking attacks with the Chaoseater (a giant sword), while right-clicking attacks with either the Scythe (a scythe) or the Tremor Gauntlet (a power glove fist); you can quickly and easily swap between the Scythe and Gauntlet by pressing the tab key. Additionally, you can equip various weapons to your three item slots, pressing numbered hotkeys to switch between the Crossblade (a giant bladed boomerang), the Earthcaller (a horn that causes AOE stun and knockback on enemies), the Mercy pistol (a rapid-fire pistol), and the Abyssal Chain (a hookshot that pulls you towards enemies, or pulls their armor off), and pressing the R key to use your toggled secondary weapon. You can also press the shift key to block, counter-attack, and dodge.

Using Din's Fire Death Rage in the Twilight Cathedral.

Each of the primary weapons has its own unique moveset, and you can spend souls earned from defeated enemies (Demon's Souls, anyone?) to buy new attacks and to upgrade existing ones. You can also buy special "wrath abilities" that function like magic attacks, consuming wrath from your wrath meter as you use them. Blade Geyser shoots spikes out of the ground all around you; Stone Skin buffs your armor and attack values; Immolation lights the area around you on fire so that enemies who get close enough also catch fire; and Affliction poisons a single target for damage over time. You start with only the Chaoseater sword and a few basic attacks at your disposal; the rest is progressively unlocked as you play the game.

The combat is functional, and it can even be fairly satisfying at times, but it serves as a good example of the superfluous, redundant, incohesive design problems of the whole game, where the designers just threw everything they could into the game without considering how it would integrate with everything else, and whether it actually needed to be there at all. The combo multiplier builds as you string consecutive hits together, but it seems to do absolutely nothing. The scythe is meant for wide-sweeping, crowd-control AOE attacks, but the sword handles that role perfectly fine (maybe even better) with the Whirl Wind combo. The scythe has two 360-degree attacks, but one of them is faster and also attacks vertically with a tornado, rendering the other obsolete.

The sword has two attacks that launch enemies straight up into the air, optionally taking you with them if you hold the button down for mid-air combos, but one launches the enemy higher and hits more times, rendering the other obsolete. Blade Geyser is meant to hit enemies in AOE around you, but you can do that exact same thing with the scythe or gauntlet without having to spend wrath from your limited supply. Stone Skin and Immolation can't be used simultaneously, and they both have the effect of causing more damage to enemies, but Stone Skin also boosts your defense, rendering Immolation obsolete. You unlock the Tremor Gauntlet well after you've already started upgrading the sword and scythe, which makes it immediately a much less appealing option.

Using Nayru's Love Stone Skin in the Iron Canopy.

The whole game suffers from feature creep, bombarding you with so many options that you don't need or even want to use. Just in combat, you've got three main weapons in the sword, scythe, and gauntlet (each with a crap-ton of moves, many of which are redundant), three secondary weapons/items in the earthcaller, crossblade, and pistol (five if you count the abyssal chain and voidwalker, which are used extensively in their respective dungeons), four "magic" abilities (half of which are redundant), plus the chaos form which you can activate once your chaos meter hits max, mounted combat once you unlock the horse, and a few temporary items like the fracture cannon and redemption rifle. Smaller enemies can be grabbed and thrown into other enemies, and you can even pick up things in the environment like cars or street lights to throw or bash at enemies. It's good to have options for the sake of variety, but only when those options are actually worth doing; in Darksiders, most of your options just give you more ways to do the exact same thing you're already doing and/or are simply less effective than other options.

There's simply no reason to mix up your techniques, except against bosses, which aren't really combat scenarios as much as they are action puzzles. In Devil May Cry, you're graded based on how many attacks you're able to string together, how varied your attacks are, and the degree of difficulty for the attacks you use; if you spam simple, repetitive attacks on enemies, your score will be much lower, which will get you fewer red orbs, which are what you spend to upgrade your stats, buy new weapons, and learn new attacks, so it's in your best interest to mix up your attacks and to try to pull off more complicated attack combos. As already mentioned, the combo multiplier in Darksiders doesn't do anything at all (or if it does, it's trivially inconsequential) -- enemies drop the same amount of souls no matter how they die, and you aren't graded for your performance in the various dungeons (like in Devil May Cry), so once you find an effective technique there's no reason to branch out; anything else you do is purely aesthetic, because the combat system is entirely superficial with zero mechanical depth to it.

This principle even applies to exploration, where a lot of your "tools" for reaching otherwise inaccessible areas really aren't that mechanically distinct from one another. Using the gauntlet to break blue crystals is mechanically no different than hitting it with your sword or scythe, except you now have the correct "key" for the "lock," and breaking the red crystals is essentially the same except its "lock" will only accept bombs as the "key." Whether you're crossing a chasm by using the shadowflight wings to glide from draft to draft or using the abyssal chain to swing from grapple point to grapple point, you're really just holding a button down and moving forward towards the next target -- it just looks different. Whether you're using the crossblade to activate a set of switches, or throwing a bombflower onto a red crystal, or using the voidwalker to create a set of portals (Portal-style), you're really just aiming at two different hotspots in the environment and clicking to "connect" them with the right key item equipped, then walking forward into the newly-opened doorway.

Using the Aperture Science Portal Gun Voidwalker to make portals.

Maybe that's oversimplifying things, but it really feels like all these different items were designed to serve the same function, in terms of exploration, but that some situations arbitrarily require one item instead of another. There's usually no logical, immersive reason for it ("why in the world are there Portal pads here, of all places?"), and the gameplay involved is basically the same in every situation, except you have to constantly dig through your inventory and juggle your equipped "keys" every time you come across a locked "door." From a design standpoint, the decision-making process of what to use where is simply "make it require something the player doesn't have yet" while consulting a chart to make sure they're using everything evenly. I normally like it when games do that, because it's usually pretty rewarding to backtrack through previous areas to unlock something you couldn't access before, but it feels, in this case, like it was designed to artificially inflate playtime, especially considering how spread-out the world actually is, and how generic most of the transition areas are.

The world is broken into about 10-12 primary areas, each with its own distinct, memorable theme and level design. You've got the Choking Grounds, a circular graveyard with the gazebo in the center; the Ashlands, a huge sandy wasteland with natural rock formations; the Anvil's Ford, a forested area with cliffs and rivers; the Iron Canopy, a modern cityscape that's been overrun by giant spiders; and so on. These areas are all fun and interesting, but they're separated by a bunch of long, linear transition areas that have no relation to the two areas they're connecting; a lot of them are just a bunch of generic grey tunnels that you could easily swap around and it would have no effect on the level design. Most aren't marked on the map, and few of them have any kind of memorable feature to help remember which one is where. It doesn't help that the warping system means you only ever have to go through an area once, until you decide to go back for optional unlocks, meaning you have even fewer opportunities to become familiar with these areas.

Talking to Navi Luke SkywalkerThe Joker The Watcher. 

Towards the end of the game, when you've finally gotten the abyssal chain and the voidwalker Portal gun, it's really hard to remember where all the grapple points and portal pads are that you've spent the last 16-20 hours passing by because there are so many of them and a lot are tucked away in those generic, forgettable transition areas. I could vividly picture specific grapple points and portal pads in my mind ("it was at the end of a long, rectangular, grey hallway, the pad was on the ceiling, and you had to shoot over a wall that didn't quite go all the way up") but I could not, for the life of me, remember how to get to them. In the end, I basically just had to re-explore the entire game world inch-by-inch, top-to-bottom to find all these places again, after I'd already spent a bunch of time previously backtracking through areas each time I unlocked a new item like the crossblade or the gauntlet.

The unlocks aren't even that rewarding, and they're especially not very exciting. In each case, it's just a small barrier that leads to an immediate treasure chest, which can be really anti-climactic after all the hours of anticipation. Most of the things you unlock are lifestone shards and wrath shards, each of which needs four to give you a new bar of health or a new bar of wrath, meaning each one you find only gives you a small amount of progress towards eventually getting something rewarding. It's even worse with the Abyssal Armor pieces, of which you need 10 to unlock the new armor set. Sometimes you find consumable items meant to fill your glass containers; these are completely worthless, equivalent to Zelda's "here's a measly five rupees" chests. The Mask of Shadows, which you unlock at the very end of the game, is the most disappointing thing of all, since all it does is let you see things in the environment that were obviously there before, but that you just couldn't interact with without the mask. That doesn't bring anything new to the gameplay, and is no different than if they'd just spawned all these things for the very first time at the end of the game without giving you a fancy "powerup" to access them.

Using the Lens of Truth Mask of Shadows to see the anvil and shard.

The game's pacing is all over the place, too. Zelda games usually have a pretty good rhythm of giving you a new area to explore, where you get to talk to NPCs, solve problems (ie, quests), and find hidden treasure before going into the area's dungeon; you typically always know what you're getting yourself into and the different stages and gameplay elements flow seamlessly into one another. Darksiders, in contrast, is pretty jarring, often plucking you out of regular gameplay to drop you into bizarre one-off scenarios. At one point you're running along a dilapidated highway and then you watch a cutscene and suddenly, for some reason, you're riding a griffon in a StarFox kind of gameplay sequence (or perhaps more accurately, a Panzer Dragoon Saga sequence), with no idea what's actually going on. That type of gameplay sequence never pops up again.

Another stage randomly turns the game into a third-person shooter, which randomly gets reprised later, for some reason, with a different type of weapon. Early on you're given a horn that you use to open gates, and then for some reason the gatekeepers make you go into random "challenge arenas" where you have to complete some arbitrary challenge like "perform five aerial kills" or "perform 20 grab/stun finishers" within a time limit. Meanwhile, certain abilities (like the counter-attack) are bestowed to you randomly, for no reason, and you sometimes stumble into dungeons or their final bosses as if by accident, with no real setup to set your expectations. It creates this really weird, disjointed pace where it feels like Things Are Just Happening and you're just kind of along for the ride, not really in control.

The real satisfaction of Darksiders comes from its dungeons, which despite being a carbon copy clone of Zelda prove to be just as fun, if not more so than typical Zelda dungeons. Darksiders' dungeons are comprised by a series of rooms that spread out in multiple directions, often requiring you to explore deep in one direction to get a key item needed to unlock access to other areas in other directions. Along the way you have to fight enemies and mini-bosses and do some platforming, but mostly you'll be solving puzzles. These puzzles are pretty clever -- even if the solutions are usually pretty obvious, that doesn't mean it's always easy to do. Sometimes it takes trial-and-error to figure out what works and what doesn't; other times it comes down to personal skill with navigating the environment, timing your actions right or having good enough aim with your weapons. All-the-while it's really satisfying to progress through a dungeon, figuring out where you need to go and what needs to be done as you work your way towards the dungeon's boss.

Pushing a block platform off a ledge. 

Unfortunately the bosses suffer from antiquated design, perhaps a problem of trying too hard to be too much like the source material. By that I mean, every single boss is a repetitive pattern of attacks and behaviors meant to be exploited, requiring a singular sequence of actions on your part to expose their glowing weak spot. It's basically a puzzle to figure out what you have to do in each situation (it always involves some application of the item you just obtained), but once you do so it's simply a matter of repeating the same pattern two or three more times until the boss eventually goes down. There are no second or third phases, no escalations in boss tactics that require you to change and adapt your tactics to a new situation; you simply follow the script, repeating the same thing until you eventually win. They're rarely ever challenging, and that simplistic design can feel incredibly anti-climactic when you finally reach the end of the dungeon.

The dungeons also have a problem, much like the overworld map, where they can become too sprawling and hard to navigate if you ever decide to backtrack in search of artifacts or treasure chests you might have missed. They flow perfectly fine the first time through, since a lot of areas are initially restricted to create a particular route through the dungeon as you unlock doors and solve puzzles, but since they sprawl out in long, linear paths you can get stuck going through huge chunks of the dungeon all over again just to get a single missed chest, and then you have no easy way out and have to backtrack long distances just to get out again. The final dungeon, in particular, can be incredibly tedious, with it requiring you to go into three branching paths, each of which is about half a dungeon in its own right, and then backtrack to the center so that you can go to one of the other branches to do it all over again, fighting the same boss three times, once at the end of each branch.

Combat leaves little to be desired, even ignoring all of its redundancies. You have the ability to block, dodge, or counter enemy attacks (all of which is done with the shift key, which means you can easily perform the wrong action by accident), but enemies generally don't telegraph their attacks, so you end up taking a lot of damage from hits that you had no realistic chance to avoid, short of understanding how the AI works and anticipating that an attack is going to come before you get a chance to see it. The dodge, meanwhile, only moves you a very short distance, which is usually insufficient to dodge attacks by larger enemies that cover greater distances, and dodging also seizes control for a moment afterwards, leaving you completely exposed to attack and unable to do anything. That's good in the sense that it forces you to time your dodges properly, but that's already shaky business because of the untelegraphed attacks, and it really disrupts the flow of combat having these awkward pauses forcibly inserted into a free-flowing combat system.

Using the bow and arrow pistol while riding Epona Ruin.

Then you've got the control issues which are just atrocious on the PC, despite the fact that I played a supposed remastered version where the designers have had two opportunities to get it right, and failed both times. If you want to use your magic skills, by default the game expects you to press and hold the B key, and then press 1, 2, 3, or 4 to use the slotted ability. Like, what? Never mind the fact that you already have three of your fingers occupied with the movement keys at WASD, but expecting you to reach for the B key with your thumb and the number keys with your pinky is just absurd. It's like whoever was in charge of programming the default controls is not only not used to PC gaming, but has never seen a keyboard before. By default you have to press O to bring up the map (instead of the usual, more logical M), and you have to press Control and Shift to cycle left and right in menus. Throwing the crossblade at multiple targets involves pressing a button to toggle aim mode, then pressing and holding a second button while aiming the mouse at your desired targets, and then pressing a third button to throw it.

Going into aim mode lowers the camera over the shoulder, proving useful for aiming the crossblade, pistol, Portal gun, fracture cannon, or redemption rifle, but the targeting reticle moves independently of the camera, so if you need to turn you have to drag the reticle to the edge of the screen and then drag it back to center, and it's easy to lose track of where the reticle is on-screen (and therefore what you're aiming at) when you've got a bunch of enemies also shooting at you and things exploding at the screen. Swimming, likewise, is completely mouse and camera independent; you have to press Control to swim lower and either Shift or Space (I don't remember which) to swim higher. This often feels clunky and imprecise. I tried playing with my Xbox 360 PC controller to see if maybe the controls would work/feel better that way, but the game never recognized it for some reason.

If I had played Darksiders when it first came out, back in 2010, there's a chance that a younger, more naive version of me would have been part of the crowd saying "it's better than Zelda," but now that I'm older and more analytically-minded I'm forced to conclude that Darksiders is simply too derivative, redundant, and uninspired to qualify as a good game. I don't mind that it so blatantly copies the Zelda formula (that's a positive as far as I'm concerned), but the fact that it brings absolutely nothing new to the table while feeling like a cluttered mess of ideas that have been indiscriminately and awkwardly shoehorned into the game makes the whole thing more than just subtly disappointing. It can be decently fun and satisfying at times, but it lacks the charm and cohesion of a good Zelda game, and it lacks the satisfying depth of Devil May Cry. In essence, it's an average Zelda game and an inferior Devil May Cry game mixed into one mediocre package.

Armello Review: A Poorly-Designed Board Game Dressed Up Like a Video Game

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Most digital board games are merely adaptations of actual, physical board games; they keep all the same gameplay elements and components of the physical game and simply add a digital interface so that you can interact with the components, and therefore actually play the game. Platforms like Board Game Simulator and Tabletopia are just physics engines with digital versions of board game components that play virtually identically to the real thing, with you picking up and moving your pieces across the board and dragging cards into the play area, substituting your hands for a mouse cursor. Armello -- successfully Kickstarted in May 2014 and released on Steam in September 2015 -- may be the only digital board game without a physical counterpart, since it was designed from the ground up to be digital. As such, it's basically a hybrid game with the design concepts of board games and the functional feeling of a video game.

Armello is a turn-based strategy game for up to four players, in which everyone plays as different animal clans (represented by their hero) vying for control of the animal kingdom after a dark poison known as the Rot has overtaken the land and driven the lion King mad. The game lasts up to 20 rounds, with the king -- positioned in the palace at the center of the hex-based board -- losing one health from Rot poisoning every other round, at dawn, until he eventually dies. If it comes to that, the player with the most Prestige (ie, victory points) wins the game by being the most worthy successor to the throne. However, players can also end the game early by breaching the palace and assassinating the weakened king, or by collecting four spirit stones and bringing them to the palace to cure the king. A player who kills or cures the king wins, regardless of prestige.

You'll be rolling dice based on your stats to complete quests, survive perils, and to fight monsters and other players, while using limited action points to move across the board towards specific objectives and to maneuver past obstacles. You'll also be managing a hand of cards, drawing up to your hand limit every turn. These cards consist of different types of equipment, spells, and trickery cards, all of which have some type of cost to use. Equipment cards can be permanently equipped to your hero for various benefits, while spells and trickery cards can be played at any time (even when it's not your turn) on enemies, tiles, or other players. You'll complete quests to increase your stats, claim settlements to increase your income, defeat monsters to earn prestige, explore dungeons for random rewards, and play your spells and trickeries on other players to influence and control the board.

I play a lot of video games, obviously, but I'm also an avid board gamer. I've actually spent more money on board games over the last three years than I have on video games (which includes money spent upgrading my computer), and I've even reviewed a few board games on this blog. It's safe to say that I'm exactly the kind of person this game is intended for, and yet I just don't like it very much. Perhaps that's in large part because this just maybe isn't my type of game (I'm not a huge fan of dice-chuckers, although many of my favorite games use dice and I do enjoy games like Run Fight or Die and Cosmic Run), but Armello features several rules and gameplay features that I and a lot of gamers consider to be objectively bad. While I can tolerate or even embrace some of these things in the right context or in small doses, Armello takes some of them to the extreme, with too much prevalence in a game that's a little too long and serious for what it ultimately is.

The way I see it, Armello has three main problems: it's way too random, there's too much "Take That" going on, and there's too much potential for forced, unproductive, sub-optimal turns where you feel like you can't really do anything. Add in a few other, more specific rules issues, balance issues, a free-to-play style business model in a $20 game that ran a successful Kickstarter campaign in which it raised over 50% more money than it was asking, plus some serious technical issues, and you have a game that's often more frustrating than fun to play.


Too Random

Every single thing in this game has some kind of randomization. This includes the starting configuration of the board (including the distribution of settlements), your initial card draw and every subsequent card draw, quest locations, choice of quests and rewards, what types of perils show up, where perils show up, skill checks for perils, dungeons/adventures with random results, random encounters, where spirit stones spawn, when and where enemies spawn, dice rolling in combat, and so on. Even things like movement can be affected by random chance, if you step onto a dungeon tile and it randomly decides to warp you all the way across the board, or if you get stuck with a semi-permanent debuff that moves you to a random adjacent tile at the start of every turn. Literally everything is affected by random chance.

Let me make this disclaimer up front: I have no problems with random elements in games. In fact, all of my favorite games have some form of randomization, whether it's with dice rolls or card draws, and I think there's definitely an argument to be made that randomness can have a positive effect on games. Randomization makes it harder to tell who will win a particular exchange, and it gives a "weaker" player a chance to stay competitive against a "stronger" player because there's always a chance that they can defy the odds and win when they probably shouldn't. Plus, random elements can add some tension and excitement to games since you never know what's going to happen until it happens. However, too much randomness can make the player feel like they're not in control of what happens, as if the game is just playing itself. The trick with game design, therefore, is to allow for some degree of unpredictability and variable outcomes while still making the player feel like they're in control, that their decisions have a direct effect on the outcome.

Armello does this to a certain degree with its card system, which helps mitigate bad luck by letting you "burn" cards from your hand, effectively discarding them in order to lock one die per card that you burn to a specific result, depending on the type of card you burn. That's useful, of course, but even this has a random luck element to it because your card draws are completely blind and completely random. You have zero control over what cards you end up with (apart from selecting which of the three decks to draw from), which means your choices of what cards to burn are completely random. Likewise, you can equip different types of equipment, cast different spells, and use different trickeries to help yourself out in different situations, like equipping armor to add guaranteed shields to your dice rolls in combat, or casting haste to give yourself an extra action point for the next two turns. But the fact of the matter is, certain cards are just better than others, and since the card draws are completely random, it comes down to pure luck whether you get better cards or worse cards.


In combat, for instance, each six-sided die has a 50% chance to give you one point of offense and only a 16% chance to give you one point of defense, with a 33% chance to roll a dud and get nothing at all. This makes defensive cards immediately more valuable than offensive cards, since you're so much less likely to roll defense, and since damage from both sides is applied simultaneously (comparing each side's offense against their opponent's defense) you will take damage and will die frequently (causing you to lose prestige, certain ongoing status effects, your position on the board (you get warped back to your starting tile when you die), and any remaining action points for your turn if you were the one attacking) if through random luck you can never get any defensive cards or defensive rolls. One time I spent the first half of the game drawing equipment cards and never getting any weapons or armor, which made me a weaker target in combat. In another two games I kept drawing nothing but weapons which forced me to be a glass cannon -- in one of those matches I went four fights in a row rolling 12 dice every time and never got a single defensive roll. It seems astronomically improbable that I could draw eight or nine equipment cards and roll 48+ dice and not get a single defensive result. That's basically Armello in a nutshell -- getting screwed by random chance.

I've played several matches with friends online, and after one of the matches, two of them felt like they lost the game because of bad card draws, while I felt like I lost because of bad dice rolls. Either way, we all felt like it came down to bad luck at the end, and that's coming from two of my friends who absolutely love this game. In one match I had enough rot that I could go for a super rare rot victory, but on the turn that I could've possibly gotten into the palace, the Stranger debuff (which I'd failed numerous coin flips to get rid of previously) made me move onto a stone circle, which normally heals you one health but kills you if you're corrupted with rot. After that, I had no chance of getting back to the palace in time. In one match I lost after collecting four spirit stones and spending four turns just trying to get into the palace, burning cards left and right and casting preemptive buff spells, but failed each time by a single die; when I finally got into the palace, the king died the next morning before I could give him the stones.


It's not just at the end of games, either; sometimes you can get screwed at the very start of the game, through no fault of your own, and that's possibly even worse than getting screwed at the end because it can put you at a permanent disadvantage for the rest of the game. With randomized settlements, there's a chance someone else will have two or three clustered near their starting spot while you might only have one, which makes it harder for you to earn money over the course of the game, which is necessary for using equipment and trickery cards. If you step onto a dungeon tile on your first turn and randomly spawn a bane, and then randomly lose because of bad dice or bad cards, then you've wasted an entire turn and now have rot, which is really hard to cure, causes you a point of damage every other turn, and makes all other rot-infected banes or heroes stronger than you unless you can accrue more rot than them. In one game I ended up with six obstacles in my starting area within the first couple of turns, while no one else had more than two. If you spend several rounds making it to your first quest and get killed or warped across the board before you reach it, then you start the game behind on prestige and behind on stat boosts, which makes it harder to earn more prestige and catch up.

There's so much random stuff happening every single turn, every single round that it's almost impossible to come up with any sort of plan, because so many things can change by the time your turn comes up again, or even during your turn. Certain random events happen every round; spirit stones spawn on random stone circles; banes spawn on random dungeon tiles and move to random tiles towards guards, players, or settlements; guards randomly patrol the board or else move towards banes or wanted players; the king puts random perils on random tiles; and the prestige leader picks between two random events that will mix things up even more (some as drastically as swapping everyone's hands). Additionally, most cards can be played out of turn, so other players will be placing traps on the board, enacting pacts with each other, and casting spells or playing trickeries on one another while someone is taking their turn.

Meanwhile, dungeons and perils can have drastically game-altering effects like spawning enemies, moving you to other tiles, taking random cards away from you, draining magic or gold you were planning to use later (or even that turn), poisoning or infecting you with rot, or even sometimes outright killing you. You typically don't know what's going to happen until you trigger them, and what happens is either the spin of a roulette or comes down to dice rolls if you don't have the right cards for the situation. All of which creates this immense feeling of rampant chaos with so many things happening all the time that you're always on your heels reacting to things, most of which is typically bad or annoying. Every game is ultimately a matter of things constantly popping up to block your path or throw a wrench in your plans, and most of it is totally unpredictable and beyond your control.


Too Much "Take That"

"Take That" is a term used to describe a type of gameplay mechanism where cards or other effects are used specifically to target other players, thereby causing them some sort of negative consequence. In typical usage, a "Take That" card neither costs nor gains the player anything who's using it, as its only intention is to hinder the other player. Consider the special cards in Uno, like the Skip, Reverse, or Draw 4 which you play solely to mess with the person next to you; you're meant to relish in the fact that you've set them back, and all they can do is be annoyed. "Take That" can be fun and enjoyable in the right context or in small doses / shorter games, but it can also ruin games if there's too much of it or if it's not executed properly. Like all things, how much one can enjoy (or tolerate) "Take That" in games varies from person to person, but I find that Armello is too mean-spirited and aggressive with its "Take That" mechanics, which can really sour the fun if you're on the receiving end and make you feel bad if you're on the delivering end.

There are about 150 different cards that you can draw (for free) from the Item, Spell, or Trickery deck at the start of each turn, up to your hand limit. About half of these are buffs that you play on yourself to improve your stats or else to help you out in some way, while the other half are debuffs or other offensive cards that you play to hurt or disrupt other players. Some cards fall into both categories, helping you in some way at someone else's expense. Each card has a cost to use, with more powerful cards having a higher cost. Most cards cost gold or spell points (which you gain automatically every dawn and dusk, respectively, depending on how many settlements you control and your spirit stat); others cost prestige or give you rot.


These cards can do all kinds of nasty things to other players. A lot of them cause other players to outright lose action points, health, magic, money, prestige, cards from their hand, equipped items, or recruited followers. Some cards steal things from other players' hands or equipped slots, or even steal prestige or spirit stones. Some cause lasting status effects like bounties that cause guards to hunt you down, or poison which causes you to lose one health every time you move, or sabotage which prevents dice from exploding (a mechanism where every "wyld" rolled counts as an attack and "explodes," thus giving you an extra die roll). Some move players to specific tiles (like to the nearest mountain or to the farthest dungeon) while others block movement. Some effects like "lose 2 gold" don't hurt that much and don't cause much ill will, but others are so nasty that they can set you back multiple turns or undo a ton of progress if they're used at the right time.

Armello is a game of opportunism, the type of game where you beat each other up even if it doesn't help you, just because it hurts them and makes it harder for them to win -- if an opportunity presents itself to screw someone else over, you take it just because you can. You're encouraged to attack each other because the winner of a fight gains one prestige and the loser loses one, so if someone's in a weakened state it benefits you greatly to swoop in and land the killing blows. In a head-to-head fight, the defender has a chance to fight back with dice and cards, but a lot of cards are played outside of combat and apply instantly. If another player is nearby and has low health, and you have the right cards, you can walk by and kill them and there's nothing they can do about it.

Ideally, you attack people who are ahead of you in prestige, or those who might be trying to breach the palace to kill or cure the king, but if the prestige leader is on the other side of the map and the person in last place happens to be nearby, there's no incentive to go out of your way for the prestige leader when there's a more convenient opportunity nearby. In fact, you may actually be incentivized to go after the person in last place -- they're probably in last place for a reason (poor play, bad luck) and therefore may be an easier target. I always feel bad targeting people when they're weak, especially if they're in last place, because you're essentially kicking someone when they're down -- it's a dirty thing to do and it feels even worse for the person being targeted -- but sometimes it's your only opportunity for prestige, and you have to take every opportunity you get if you want to win the game.


While the game encourages (or at least enables) picking on the people in last place, it also encourages leader bashing. If it's near the end of the game and you're the one with the most prestige, you can almost guarantee that every negative card is coming your way until someone else becomes the new prestige leader. It's never fun in any game to feel ganged up on, even if you deserve it for being in the lead, and if two or more players decide to team up against you (either because of legitimate gameplay strategy or because you got randomly matched into a lobby with a couple of friends, thus making you the odd man out) then you stand zero chance of winning, because in this game getting hit with even just a few of the right cards at the right time can mean basically losing your turns or any chance of competitiveness at the end of the game.

There's also an element of king-making at work, where players outside of contention for victory can ultimately decide who wins the game by whom they choose to target near the end. If two players are tied for prestige, a player in third or fourth can essentially give the victory to one player by attacking the other; if someone breaches the palace with four spirit stones or a good chance to kill the king in combat, someone else might swoop in to kill them, thus extending the game a few more rounds and thus giving the victory to the prestige leader. Since a lot of this can happen with instant effect cards, it adds a lot to the general feeling that you don't really have as much control over the game as you'd like -- between all the randomized elements, leader bashing, and king-making, it can really make the end of the game feel like it's completely out of your control if you don't have the right cards or get crappy rolls / draws.


Too Many Quasi-"Lose a Turn" Effects

One of the worst things a designer can put into their game is rules that cause players to stop playing the game. This occurs most often in the form of player elimination, where players can get knocked out of the game while the remaining players continue on until a winner is determined, but games can also have "lose a turn" effects where you stay in the game, but simply don't get to take any actions during the next round. Armello isn't so extreme as to flat out say "you cannot play anymore" since there's no player elimination (if your character dies you respawn at your home base, retaining all of your items and stats) and there technically aren't any card effects that simply say "lose a turn," but a lot of the card effects can be so crippling that they may as well be "lose a turn."

You want players to feel like they're making progress, that they're doing productive things on their turn that help them towards the end-game -- that's a large part of what makes games satisfying to play -- but it's all too easy in Armello to have turns where you accomplish nothing at all, or worse, actually lose progress, either because of all the random elements or because of other players'"Take That" cards, neither of which you can do much about. It's not fun or productive to spend four turns trying to get onto a palace tile, where all you do is perform a basic skill check that, if you fail, sends you back to the previous tile and ends your turn. It's not fun or productive to take one step and land on a peril that causes a ton of damage and ends your turn immediately if you fail. It's not fun or productive to have to pass your entire turn, not moving at all, because you're poisoned and low on health. It's not fun or productive to have only one action point to spend on your turn because other players played one or more cards that cause you to lose action points.


Those ones aren't so bad because at least you're not losing progress -- you're just not gaining any. Other turns can be much worse, typically when effects cause you to move to the opposite side of the board when you're just trying to reach a quest objective. Say you spend three turns trying to cross the map, moving around obstacles and having to contend with a bunch of hazards, and almost reach your objective, only to step onto a dungeon tile and have it warp you all the way across the board. Or take your first action on your turn attacking a bane that happens to be in the way, knowing that it will give you prestige if you win, only to die on the first attempt and get warped back to your home base and lose the rest of your action points for that turn, also losing one prestige and gaining rot in the process. Or you're minding your own business but you've taken a few hits from perils and banes, and another player walks by and plays a card that kills you instantly. This kind of stuff is so frustrating, because it feels like building a sand castle and then having a bully come along and kick it down.

Meanwhile, different cards have varying degrees of usefulness, with some being highly situational cards that you may not ever be able to use, some being literally unusable if you don't meet the stat or resource requirements, and some being straight up inferior to cards you already have equipped. It's possible, therefore, to get stuck with a hand full of useless cards which can seriously limit your strategic or tactical options, because there's no system for discarding cards -- the only way to get rid of cards you don't want is to use them (which is often times impossible, impractical, or harmful) or burn them in a stat check. Due to the randomized nature of the board, there may simply not be any perils or combat opportunities nearby (and you'd be risking further harm to yourself by triggering a peril, just to get rid of a few cards), which can force you to hold on to those useless cards longer than you may desire, and if you're stuck with a bunch of rot cards then you're completely screwed (unless you're willing to change your entire strategy mid-game and commit fully to rot) because rot cards burn as rot symbols in stat checks, which count as duds, meaning you have to literally waste dice to get rid of your rot cards.

It's also possible find out that you've been mathematically eliminated from winning the game in the last few rounds, if something happens and you can't get to the palace in time, or if there aren't enough opportunities to score prestige around you, or if you aren't getting good cards that might help you. That can take all the fun out of the game, and make the end completely deflating when your last few turns don't really matter except possibly to mess with other people and play king-maker. As mentioned previously, I don't like king-making in games, because the winner should feel like they won through their own play, not because someone in third or fourth place chose the winner, and so I've had games where I've simply passed on my last two turns because I knew I couldn't accomplish anything in that time, or I played them out knowing full well that it was pointless to do so.


Other Rules Issues

At the start of every round, from round two onward, the king presents the prestige leader with two randomly-selected decrees, and they get to pick one to put into play. These decrees can change the state of the board, or apply an instant effect to all (or certain) heroes, or introduce new rules of play for that round. This is a fun idea since it adds variety from round to round, and they're usually pretty interesting decisions for the prestige leader to make. My problem with it is that it's always the prestige leader, because in my experience across a dozen or so games, once someone takes the lead they tend to stay in the lead for the majority of the game, meaning one person will be making nearly all of the game-altering decisions for the entire game. I think I would like it more if the decrees could rotate from player to player so that other players could have a chance to take part in the fun. The actual decrees would need to be modified for this to work, and it would also go against the theme for the king to seek counsel from less prestigious players, but I really think it could help the gameplay more and help players feel a little more in control of things.

I'm also not fond of the fact that players take turns in the same order every round, meaning one player will always be going first, and another player will always be going last. There are inherent advantages and disadvantages for each position in turn order, so going last can be a good thing in some situations, and going first can sometimes be bad, but I feel like going first gives you a little bit more of an advantage over other players, because being first is basically a tie-breaker for a lot of scenarios. Suppose two players are both able to gain one prestige every round, meaning they're persistently tied -- the player who goes first in that scenario is considered the prestige leader because he's always a half-step ahead of the other player. Similarly, if two or more players are in position to breach the palace when it's nearing the end of the game, whoever goes first can attack or cure the king before the other players even get a chance to act. I would've liked it, therefore, if the "first player" could rotate every round so that you're not always stuck in the same situation every single round.


There's also a timed element to the game; you have a time limit in which to take your turn, and if you want to play a card on someone else's turn (e.g., if you think someone's going to attack you and you want to cast a buff on yourself) you have to do it before they act. So the game is technically turn-based, but it all flows in quasi real time, and I find that to be a little stressful sometimes. It's hard to keep track of what's going on when you're trying to watch someone take their turn and other people are playing perils and spells and trickeries elsewhere. You can toggle an action log to help keep track of what's going on, but if you have to scroll down to figure out what just happened, you can miss more stuff as it's happening. Meanwhile, if you're taking your turn and have a lot of card text to read and different options to consider, you can find the timer rushing you into a decision before you're ready. It's not that I don't like real-time systems in board games (I really like Escape, Space Alert, FUSE, etc), but in this case it feels more like an anti-AFK measure than a core gameplay principle. You can turn the timed turns off, but they're on by default and most online matches will have them on.

There's a ton of effect text on cards, and for a new player it can be overwhelming trying to parse how all of the cards in your hand actually work and what other players are doing. There's always a bit of a learning curve in board games -- you have to become familiar with the rules before you can start to think about strategy -- but the timed element combined with the huge number of unique cards makes it even harder on new players. It doesn't help that some of the text can be a little vague or unclear, leaving you to make educated guesses about how a card actually works before using it. One of the king's decrees, for instance, says something like "The prestige leader passes around his renown; give 1 prestige to other players," which kind of implies that you're losing three prestige so that everyone else can gain one, but it's not clearly stated that way. The basic rules are simple enough to learn, but this is a type of game that you really have to play multiple times before everything starts to sink in fully.


Free-to-Play Style Unlocks

Armello costs $20 but feels like a free-to-play game with all the paid DLC and gameplay functions that are locked behind grinding progression. Fortunately, a lot of the paid DLC is purely cosmetic, even if it is overpriced with a single character skin costing a whopping $7, but half of the game's playable characters are paid exclusives, split into two $10 packs. It would be one thing if they were just skins, but each hero has a unique ability that changes the way they play the game, and some of them look pretty fun and useful, like Sargon, who gets to look at top card of each deck before drawing; if you want to play as any of them you have to shell out an extra $10. Another four characters are Kickstarter exclusives that, for over a year-and-a-half, weren't even available as paid DLC, but have now finally been released to non-Kickstarters backers for another $10. Then you've got the random crate and $1.49 key system from CS:GO and TF2 for dice skins, while the main game menu and community hub news feed on Steam is bombarded with updates for the in-game store, which is also plastered right on the main menu screen.


At the start of each game, you can choose one ring and one amulet to equip; each one gives you a unique bonus, typically either a +1 to one of your stats or a rule-altering ability, like ignoring the movement penalty for crossing mountains. You start with a few basic options and have to unlock the rest by playing X number of matches with each animal clan. They're all meant to be balanced, but the reality is some of these can lend a strong advantage to particular playstyles, meaning more experienced players (who are already better at the game) will have an extra advantage over newer players. If you want to unlock those fancy new options for yourself, then you have to put in tens of hours at a time just to get them, and I'm not sure why that has to be the case in a $20 game. It's not like this is a free-to-play where they try to incentivize you to pay money to unlock stuff to save the time grinding for it -- you can't even pay to unlock them, so grinding to unlock them isn't a matter of saving money, it's literally just wasting time.


Technical Issues

Armello has a lot of stability and performance issues, many of which are completely game-breaking. Sometimes the game crashes completely to desktop, or you get disconnected from an online match (despite having a stable internet connection), or someone drops out of an online match (intentionally or not) and the AI player never takes over, or the game somehow gets stuck on some turn or phase and never advances to the next turn/phase leaving you at a complete standstill. These problems aren't so frequent as to make the game unplayable, but there's maybe a 20% chance that something will happen to prevent you from finishing an online match, and it can be really frustrating spending an entire hour on a match only to have it crash or glitch out and prevent you from actually finishing it.

Normally I wouldn't complain about these sorts of issues, because my reviews focus more on gameplay design than technical execution of the final product, and technical issues can vary greatly from person to person, while developers usually manage to fix most of the bigger problems with patches. In short, I don't usually worry about it, but Armello has had a consistent problem over its lifespan of introducing new problems seemingly every time it rolls out new content, new DLC, or new patches meant to fix problems. And with the game's constant updating as a result of its F2P-style business model, I worry that there's always going to be technical problems just beyond the developers' grasp of fixing. It's been a year-and-a-half since the game first launched on Steam, after all, and the game still has these game-breaking issues, many of which are actually recent.


A lot of it has to do with online games against other players, and so you can avoid most of the risk by playing offline with AI players, but you may as well not even bother with that since the AI isn't smart enough to provide any sort of challenge. They don't make smart decisions, and they don't play aggressively enough to cause enough interference on you, resulting in them always falling way, way behind on prestige or doing stupid stuff like attacking the King when they have no realistic chance of winning. I guess playing against the AI can provide for a more relaxing distraction from real life, but I don't find it very engaging when you practically know from the onset that you're going to win, just because you're vastly more intelligent than your computerized opponents.


In Conclusion

I really wanted to like Armello, but I find that it's just too irritating to enjoy. It's a great concept with some good ideas muddled by a frustrating lack of control, with so many unpredictable things happening every single round. It's too random, there's too much "Take That" going on, and you end up in too many situations where you just get screwed by bad things, and there's not a lot you can do about it. I've played more than a dozen matches, and every one was half-filled with frustration and misery. Even in matches where I won, I felt constantly annoyed by things. It's not fun getting constantly knocked down and having things go critically wrong seemingly every other turn, all because of random chance and other players playing cards just to screw you. Sure, you can use cards yourself to counter random chance and other players' aggressive actions to a certain degree, but that also comes down to random chance whether you get useful cards or not.

I normally don't mind random elements in games, and I'm fine with direct conflict in games, but Armello manages to capture the worst aspects of both of those things. Maybe it wouldn't be such an issue if Armello were a slightly different type of game -- a simpler, lighter, shorter game -- but it feels too long and serious for the amount of random chaos and crippling attacks that players can launch against each other. Maybe if it were purely a PVP "Take That" game, but it's kind of a hybrid -- half the game is playing against the game itself (completing quests, fighting banes, exploring dungeons, claiming settlements, etc) with the other half being PVP elements meant to disrupt the PVE aspect. It looks like it's supposed to be a casual, lightweight family game, but then it's also got a surprisingly complex, convoluted card system and hardcore friendship-ruining dickery in it.

Maybe if it were an actual board game that I could play face-to-face with friends, where we could look at each other and talk and laugh about things, but it's a video game that you typically play online with random strangers using pre-programmed emotes to communicate with the other players, if you even try to communicate at all. You can remedy this by playing with friends and using third-party voice chat, but it's still not the same thing as sitting down at a table together; the social interaction through an online video game interface feels weird and sterile to me in comparison.

So I really can't recommend Armello. I see people talking about it on forums somewhat regularly, typically whenever someone's looking for suggestions on digital board games to play, praising how unique and interesting it is, but it just doesn't seem like a very good game to me. Its design feels self-conflicting to me, like some of its gears grind whenever I play and I end up more irritated than satisfied. It can be a lot of fun sometimes, but that fun is often undermined by frustration and misery. And when it comes to digital board games, I'd rather play virtually anything else. 

Red Faction: Guerrilla Sucks

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Red Faction: Guerrilla is one of the worst games I've ever played. That statement's a bit hyperbolic, I admit, but even when I don't like a game I can usually find some sort of redeeming value, some reason to maybe like it in spite of its problems. I can't do that with Red Faction: Guerrilla. Sure, the Geo Mod 2.0 system, which allows you to reduce towering buildings to piles of rubble through a full-fledged physics-based destruction system, can be a lot of fun, but literally everything else in this game -- vehicles, combat, missions, the story, the open world -- is either underwhelming or completely rubbish. It's like they had this idea for a great destruction system and then slapped a bunch of stuff together to make a game out of it, without bothering to make sure any of the actual game was any good.

Guerrilla is set in the year 2125, a couple generations after the events of the first Red Faction. In essence, Mars has been terraformed and colonized, but its population -- mostly immigrant workers who have come to Mars to work the mines and factories -- is being oppressed by a militaristic organization known as the Earth Defense Force. You play as Some Guy Alec Mason, a demolitions worker who arrives on Mars just in time to witness his brother get murdered by the EDF. Mason quickly takes up the mantle of the Red Faction, a guerrilla organization working to rid Mars of the EDF and liberate its people. The rest of the game sees Mason completing missions for Red Faction and destroying key EDF structures to reduce EDF control over the game's six regions and raise colonist morale within them.

The basic gameplay takes an open world approach similar to Grand Theft Auto -- you get an open region on the surface of Mars (divided into six districts) to explore, driving assorted vehicles along streets and over open terrain towards various points of interest. These mostly consist of main missions and side-missions where you drive to a start point to load the script and assets for the mission and then carry it out in the open world, but there are also ore deposits that you can mine (giving you scrap, a resource for upgrading equipment), audio logs to find (giving you tiny bits of backstory and, if you find enough of them, hidden locations of massive bombs), and marked EDF buildings that you're encouraged to destroy in your own free way.

A reference to the protagonist from the first Red Faction.

Each district has two gauges associated with it: one representing the EDF's level of control over the region, and another representing the population's morale in that zone. Your goal is to lower the EDF's control in each district by completing main missions and assorted "guerrilla actions" (stealing EDF vehicles, intercepting EDF convoys, destroying EDF structures, rescuing civilian hostages, etc) and then complete the final main mission (only unlocked once EDF control reaches zero) to officially liberate the district. Completing these missions and guerrilla actions will also raise morale; the higher a district's morale, the more likely random civilians are to join you in a fight, supply you with extra ammunition, or grant you extra scrap as rewards. For the whole game you simply repeat this process of performing various tasks to lower the EDF's control over a district and then moving on to the next one to do it all over again, until you eventually liberate all of Mars from EDF control.

Red Faction: Guerrilla's biggest and most glaring flaw is that it's just so, damn, repetitive. The whole game consists of essentially two things -- driving from mission point to mission point and blowing stuff up -- divided into hundreds of little five-minute scenarios that you tackle one at a time, driving from one to the next, repeating the same basic objectives and hitting the same beats over and over again, from one district to the next, until you eventually do enough of these actions to beat the game. To reiterate: it feels very much like they had only a bare-bones idea of what kind of game they wanted to make, created a few demo scenarios to show off the destruction system, and then copy-pasted the tech demo scenarios several dozen times until they had a "full game" on their hands. As such, playing through Guerrilla feels a lot like grinding repetitive tasks in an MMORPG.

There are, for instance, eight types of side-missions (nine if you count the Demolition Master challenges), most of which are some simple variation on a basic objective like "kill X number of dudes,""destroy this target," or "drive this vehicle somewhere." There's room for creative freedom within some of the missions, but you spend most of the time stuck at "red alert" status which causes dozens of EDF troops, tanks, and copters to swarm your locations from all directions, meaning once you actually start a mission you don't have time for any kind of clever tactics for completing your objective as the situation quickly devolves into frantic run-and-gun mayhem. In practice, most missions end up playing out exactly the same, and once you realize you're doing the exact same thing for the umpteenth time you stop caring about coming up with fun, clever solutions to objectives and instead resort to just getting it done as quickly as possible -- usually by charging straight in and just blowing up or smashing everything indiscriminately.

"Left Click for five minutes until everything dies."

Some mission types are just so incredibly boring that I started actively avoiding them unless I happened to be conveniently right next to one. "Heavy Metal" missions, where you pilot a mech and are tasked with killing/destroying X amount of things, are the worst of all since you're practically invincible, and you're forcibly restricted to a small circular zone where you just stand around mashing the attack button waiting for things to come and die. "Collateral Damage" missions have you passively riding in the back of a vehicle with a turret shooting random buildings and EDF vehicles, but you often get stuck in long sections where you've blown everything up and just sit there waiting for the next thing to show up. "Transporter" missions (or any mission involving a vehicle) is just following a dotted line towards a destination across a boring wasteland of a map.

All the vehicles control like ass in this game. There are over 20 types of vehicles to drive, ranging from lightweight civilian minihaulers to armored tanks, each one with its own unique stats for things like durability, speed, and handling, and every single one of them is just a pain in the ass to drive in its own way, because despite their varying stats they all have the cumbersome inertia and turn radius of a freight truck with the weight of a miniature Hot Wheels car. The surface of Mars is full of uneven terrain, with lots of hills, canyons, and rocks of all sizes, and vehicles tend to bounce around and fly out of control even on relatively smooth terrain, meaning that you're only ever really in control of the vehicle about half the time you're driving it. Going up a measly two-degree incline will send your vehicle gliding through the air once the incline levels out, and if you were in the process of turning then the vehicle is now spinning out of direction. One time I was driving onto a bridge which had a fairly steep entry ramp (5-7 degrees) and the car went flying a solid 20 yards through the air and landed on the bridge with enough force that it crashed straight through everything and fell nose-first into a huge canyon.

Even the NPCs can't control these crappy vehicles.

Driving around would be more bearable if there just weren't so much of it. According to my final stats, I spent more than a third of my play time driving a vehicle, most of which I would wager was time spent simply driving to the next mission point, or doing those stupid time trials where you steal an EDF vehicle and have to drive it all the way across the whole frickin' planet. And it's not like all that driving is really necessary -- even though the mission points are spread all across the map, the mission structure often requires you to return to a safe house when you're done, thereby forcing you to retread the same roads and paths numerous times in a row to get back to where you were after finishing a mission. At one point I logged a note that I had driven out from a safe house to a mission objective that required me to drive a new vehicle back to the same safe house, then drove back out of the safe house to the next mission point where I rode around the back of a vehicle that eventually returned back to the safe house, where I drove out again to another objective that had me rescue hostages and bring them back to the safe house.

Besides driving to the next mission point, there's not a lot to actually do in the open world. You can destroy marked EDF structures in whatever method you desire (this is actually required of you to lower EDF control enough to activate the final mission for each district), but this becomes pointless and repetitive after a little while. Otherwise, all you can really do is get out of the vehicle at random intervals to smash ore deposits or go hunting obscure corners of the map for audio logs, both of which are seemingly put into the game simply for the sake of having a bunch of collectibles (as in, hundreds) to round out achievements. Ore deposits provide such a pathetic amount of scrap (currency used to upgrade your equipment) that it's rarely worth the time to stop and harvest them, and the audio logs just give you one or two generic sentences from random people you don't know and don't care about while also not expanding the lore or the story in any way.

Good luck seeing anything through the huge muzzle flashes and explosions.

The story is practically non-existent, lacking any of the basic building blocks of an actual story. You get only the barest possible exposition for the world, its political state, and your character's history and motivation, before it jumps right into video game cliches about needing to do X amount of Things to beat the Bad Guy. There are no characters to speak of, as the only named NPCs have extremely limited screen time, limited function in the story except to hand out jobs for you to complete, no personality whatsoever, and no motivation besides "EDF bad, Red Faction good." There's not even a villain to drive the conflict forward, as the EDF is just a faceless organization of henchmen represented primarily by a statistical meter. Most missions lack any kind of interesting narrative to propel the game's story forward, as they all consist of basic objectives like "go here and blow this up." And since the game spends its majority repeating these same basic objectives over and over again there's no feeling of rising action until the very end. All of which is to say, there's really no reason to care about anything that's going on.

Combat is a boring, tedious, repetitive, pointless, unsatisfying waste of time. The whole game plays in third-person with the idea of it being a cover-based shooter, where you press a button to attach yourself to a wall so that you can shoot around corners. This system, unfortunately, just doesn't work very well. As far as I can tell, there's no way to shoot over cover, thereby limiting your tactical options. Secondly, the cover system only works with small weapons like the pistol, shotgun, assault rifle, and so on -- all the boring, uninteresting FPS standards. If you want to use any of the more novel weapons (like the arcwelder, grinder, rocket launcher, etc) then you simply can't use the cover system. If you have the hammer equipped and need to take cover, it won't actually let you go into cover mode simply because you can't "shoot" that weapon from behind cover.

Getting shot at from all directions while blatantly avoiding cover.

So the actual cover system is completely rubbish -- not a big deal, that just means you take cover manually, positioning yourself with an object between you and the enemies. There are two problems with this: first, enemies come at you from all directions, with aerial copters buzzing around everywhere and foot soldiers streaming in even from the mountains, so there's never really any safe place where you're actually protected because you're always exposed to something; second, since all man-made structures are destructible, any halfway decent cover you find is likely to get blown up by enemy explosives. So in reality, you rarely have any kind of worthwhile protection, and with enemies coming in from all directions you're always getting shot at by something off-camera, and so every combat situation becomes an annoying exercise of spinning around trying to figure out what's shooting you while your vision gets horribly obscured by the ginormous muzzle flashes of your weapons, debris and smoke from destructible structures, and the blurring effect of taking damage, and frantically scrambling around looking for cover while you can't see the tiny dots who are shooting you from across the map.

Most weapons aren't that satisfying to use, because most of them feel rather underpowered. Most basic weapons don't have any kind of meaningful recoil, they sound dull and muted, and enemies barely react to taking damage from them until they ragdoll -- it feels like playing laser tag or firing airsoft rifles. Bigger weapons that cause explosions come with a more satisfying kick, but they're usually limited to a much lower ammo capacity. Likewise, you can only carry four weapons at a time, one of which has to be the hammer and another one of which should probably be remote charges, meaning you really only have two weapon slots to play around with, which doesn't allow much room for fun variety. And the game's upgrade system, where you spend scrap (earned from mining ore deposits and blowing stuff up) to buy new weapons and improve them, restricts the more interesting upgrades until the second half of the game while doling everything else out at such a methodical pace that there's not much excitement to be had from upgrades.

Like with the vehicles, the tedious, annoying combat wouldn't be such a problem if there weren't so damn much of it. Combat is practically non-stop -- it happens during every single mission and every single guerrilla action, meaning that for every little thing you do you're going to get swarmed by comically absurd numbers of enemies, Blues Brothers-style. According to final stats, I spent more than half of my playtime at "yellow alert" or higher (meaning over half of the game was spent with enemies trying to kill me), and I killed a total of 2,745 EDF soldiers and destroyed 677 EDF vehicles. And like with the missions, virtually every combat scenario is the same because they just throw hundreds of enemies at you where any difficulty or challenge stems entirely from the sheer quantity of enemies you have to face. There are no structured challenges or setpieces to create unique scenarios, because every mission is just a copy-pasted rehash of the same basic formula.

The only fun part of the game: causing destruction.

Imagine if the main missions were a little more elaborate. What if, instead of always driving to a location and blowing up a building in a completely open landscape, you had to infiltrate a deep, underground mine tunnel and plant an explosive somewhere, without getting caught, and then escape in time before the fuse goes off. You might have to avoid EDF patrols in a quasi-stealth system, maybe engage in dialogue and talk your way out of situations, maybe create a distraction somewhere else and slip by, maybe use the hammer or another item to create tunnels and shortcuts. Then, when you've planted the bomb and have to escape, you have to fight your way out, with a structured level design creating alternating choke points, hallways, and more open spaces with different types of enemies using different weapons, creating different scenarios with different solutions depending on what equipment you're using and what you did on the way in.

Of the roughly 125 missions in the game (21 of which are considered main missions), only a small handful attempt to do anything remotely like this, but they still proved to be pretty boring and straightforward. Really, only the "Demolition Master" side-missions offer any kind of satisfying gameplay; these missions task you with destroying different types of abandoned structures in creative ways, with some type of specific objective or challenge like "use only three explosive charges" or other weird scenarios where you have to attach remote charges to explosive barrels then throw them down a chute and detonate the charges. These challenges are legitimate puzzle scenarios, typically the only situations in the game when you get a chance to actually a study a building looking for weaknesses and planning something clever, instead of just driving a vehicle straight in to them and setting charges everywhere, because they're a rare occasion when you're not being attacked by a bajillion enemies and can just focus on the destruction.

And really, the destruction system is the only reason to bother playing this game. I love the fact that you can use the hammer to bust through walls wherever and whenever you feel like it, and there's a lot of fun, creative stuff you can do in the open environment if you really want. Plus, it's immensely satisfying to crash a vehicle carrying a giant bomb into the ground floor of a building, throw a few charges about, then run out and shoot a rocket at the vehicle, and watch as the building collapses in on itself and the shrapnel from the explosion flies out and hits other buildings leading to a small chain reaction of destruction. Likewise, it can be pretty intense to be in the middle of a heated firefight with a bunch of enemies and then have an entire building come crashing down around you, as you frantically try to dodge the falling bits of concrete and metal while shooting back at the enemies.

How is this building staying up without its support columns?

The actual physics for all of this can be pretty wonky sometimes, however, which can lead to some really jarring, immersion-breaking moments. It's kind of surprising, for instance, how often you can knock support beams out from under something and find it standing in complete defiance of gravity, held up by a single toothpick or, in some cases, nothing at all. Sometimes rubble will fall in your general vicinity and you'll get completely flattened even though it barely grazed you, or things that should knock you down bounce off you like foam blocks. These instances are more infrequent, but it's still awkward every time it happens. Then you've got more general issues where you struggle to walk over all the rubble because you end up with a bunch of tiny one-foot-tall walls everywhere that you have to jump over, which is clunky and imprecise, and the invisible walls that make you awkwardly slide down hills when trying to climb up steep slopes. Overall, the physics system for destruction is extremely impressive, but the little things like this start to pile up in a repetitive open-world game and can affect the experience.

Unfortunately, everything else in the game just seems to get in the way of the destruction, and none of it's good enough to offer a satisfying distraction. Many parts are so bad that they actively take away from the game's satisfaction, while everything else is just so boring, bland, tedious, and repetitive. Even the lauded destruction system becomes kind of boring after the first few hours since the game keeps repeating the same scenarios over and over again for the whole game. I enjoyed the game decently enough for the first three hours, but then once I liberated the first district and it said "now do it all over again in a much bigger district," presuming that I'd then have to do it all over again for another four districts after that, I rapidly started losing interest and started plowing through missions and guerrilla actions just to get it over with as quickly as possible. The destruction system is pretty unique and enjoyable, but the actual game practically ruins it for me, and I therefore can't recommend Red Faction: Guerrilla at all.

DOOM 2016: "Holy Hell, This is Actually Good."

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The original Doom games from 1993 and 1994 are some of my favorite first-person shooters of all time, but I haven't really enjoyed anything that developer id Software has put out since. Quake (1996) felt a little too bland and uninspired to hold my attention and I quit part-way through its second episode; Doom 3 (2004) was alright but felt too much like a System Shock-inspired survival-horror game, and less like a Doom game; and Rage (2011) inappropriately and ineffectively tried to cash in on the open-world post-apocalyptic FPS-RPG fad that was already running strong with Borderlands and Fallout: New Vegas. So when id announced DOOM (2016), which was supposed to be a reboot of their beloved series and a return to the style of fast-paced, no-nonsense action shooter that they single-handedly invented back in the early-90s, I had little faith that it would actually be any good.

As it turns out, DOOM (2016) is actually a solid FPS. It's one of few reboots that supposedly "goes back to its roots" and actually delivers on that promise; DOOM un-apologetically bucks many of the trends souring modern FPS games and offers a gameplay experience that focuses on intense action blended with complex level design. It feels very much like the original games, but with the added benefit of some modern polish and extra features. Even disregarding the legacy of its predecessors and how it stands up against them, DOOM works great as a stand-alone game with a decently long campaign that offers a ton of satisfying variety, challenge, and progression. This is a quality game from top to bottom that, for once in a AAA game, deserves all the praise it's received.

DOOM comes from an era of shooters where the best defense is a good offense; instead of hiding behind cover and patiently waiting for enemies to expose themselves for easy pickings like some kind of glorified shooting gallery, or avoiding enemies by hiding behind cover long enough for your health to regenerate (essentially not playing the game for a few moments), DOOM is a first-person shooter about sprinting through an arena dodging attacks from demonic enemies and using your vast arsenal of guns to kill everything in sight before they can kill you. It also uses a classic system of health, armor, and ammo pickups, meaning you actually have to explore complex levels loaded with secret areas to give yourself the best fighting chance at survival, and manage your supplies over the course of each level so that you don't run out of what you need.

About to glory-kill a staggered revenant.

DOOM encourages fast-paced run-and-gun action through a combination of movement speed, level design, enemy design, and enemy AI. You fight a constant variety of enemies that all behave and attack differently, from imps that skitter around walls trying to avoid you while throwing fireballs at you, to pinkies that barrel toward you with a charging melee attack, to possessed security guards with cyber shields that slowly push towards you to blast you with a shotgun, in addition to many others, all of which require slightly different tactics to deal with. A typical fight involves multiple types of enemies coming at you from multiple directions, in battle-zones designed with a lot of vertical levels, obstacles, and pathways so that enemies can spawn and come at you from a variety of angles, thereby keeping you in constant motion as you dodge attacks and try to anticipate where an enemy will appear next, while also closing the gap for better accuracy and "glory kills."

When enemies are about to die, they stagger and shimmer in a reddish-orange hue, giving you an opportunity to rush in and execute a "glory kill" where you punch them into a bloody pulp or rip their jaw off, or some other sort of gratuitously violent animation. I normally hate "press X to watch elaborate animation" mechanisms in games because it takes your hands off the controls for the duration of the animation, and it feels counter-intuitive to stop shooting something when it's about to die, but it kind of works in this game. Besides the visceral thrill of seeing those animations in effect, the reason you'd want to do this is because enemies drop health vials when they die via a glory kill, which is sometimes your only way of replenishing your health in the middle of a fight -- besides running away and looking for health packs in the arena. That element, especially in conjunction with close-range weapons like the super shotgun or plasma rifle, creates a really engaging risk-vs-reward system where you want to stay close enough to an enemy to pull off those glory kills, but that also puts you at greater risk of being hit so you have to be really quick on your feet -- again, encouraging movement.

The movement speed in DOOM is fast enough to let you quickly zip around levels from enemy to enemy (you can also climb up ledges and platforms, and can even double-jump after a certain point in the game), but not so fast that it becomes hard to aim and therefore counter-productive to run fast. Likewise, you're always fighting a bunch of enemies at once who're often coming at you from all directions, but it's never so many enemies that you feel overwhelmed. Level design ranges from cramped corridors to wide-open arenas, but it never feels too cramped or too spacious. The keyword, here, is balance: everything in this game feels so perfectly balanced, hitting that perfect sweet spot between fast-paced action and slower-paced tension, between moments of claustrophobic survival and free-roaming exploration, also offering you enough variety from beginning to end, with level design and a progression system that has you encountering new types of enemies and gaining new weapons and abilities as the game goes on, such that there's always something fresh and interesting happening in every single level. 

Fighting demons on the Mars UAC base.

Each fight is less about the quantity of enemies and more about the quality of the encounter with unique combinations of enemies, items, powerups. Although you spend the bulk of the game repeating the same basic things over and over again -- killing demons -- the game is constantly mixing things up in unique and interesting ways so that each encounter offers a satisfying challenge, while the variety keeps you engaged as the game goes on. Gameplay constantly evolves over the course of the game, so you're always reacting to new things and adapting to new situations, while progressively getting bigger and better guns and more powerful abilities that essentially break the normal rules of the game, almost like cheat codes. These changes aren't just arbitrary changes for the sake of variety, however; it's a constantly evolving system that's always layering more things on top of you as you gain mastery with the previously-introduced systems. 

Contrary to the impression many reviews might give you, DOOM isn't just constant action; every fight with a horde of demons is juxtaposed with calm moments of downtime when you're exploring the levels trying to figure out where to go next, finding keycards and platforming to reach the next area, searching for secrets, taking in the lore and story, or just basking the atmospheric ambiance of the levels.

This is some of the best level design I've ever seen in an FPS, especially among "modern" shooters released within the past decade. Although the game features a linear level progression from beginning to end, a lot of levels give you a set of objectives to be completed in any order you desire, allowing you the freedom to go where you want and to take as much time as you want exploring. For an avid explorer like myself, I was constantly impressed by just how big and complex these levels are, with some of them taking an entire hour or more to complete. Most of them tend to sprawl out in multiple directions, with paths connecting at various points and thereby allowing you to gain access to to a ledge, a room, or an area that was otherwise inaccessible from another angle. The game often teases you with a glimpse of a special item tucked away somewhere that you then have to puzzle out how to actually access, and that proved extremely satisfying for me. The secret areas, likewise, are plentiful and so discreetly hidden (but no impossibly so) that each one you find is a genuine accomplishment, and most of them offer some kind of tangible reward like powerups or upgrade points.

A hellish arena near the end of the game.

One of the few "modern" trends that DOOM brings to the table is an RPG-lite system for character and weapon upgrades. As you play through the game you can find robot drones that let you pick alternate-firing modes for each of your weapons, and then as you find secrets and kill enemies you earn upgrade points that you can spend enhancing those weapon modifications. With the basic combat shotgun you can pick between a three-round burst or explosive shells; with the plasma rifle you can pick between a heat blast or stun rounds. With weapon upgrade points, you can further enhance each weapon mod, like making certain projectiles penetrate enemies, or decreasing the load time for alternative ammo. Additionally, you can find cyber modules on fallen Doomguy soldiers to improve your armor (reducing damage from environmental hazards, boosting powerups, increasing weapon swap speeds, etc), and you can find argent cells (a special energy source) to increase things like your maximum health, armor, or ammo pools. You've also got "runes" that you can earn by completing challenges within levels that grant even more unique abilities, like granting infinite ammo if your armor is above a certain value, or giving you mid-air control of your movement while jumping.

While the upgrade system is generally fine, this is one area that I think the developers went a little overboard. Progression systems are fun and rewarding in most video games, but I feel like there's just a little too much going on in this game, to the point that the various upgrades become either cumbersome or obsolete, while also vastly lowering the difficulty as you improve. I often found myself in situations where I didn't really want or need any of the upgrades available to me, and so I just dumped points somewhere for the sake of it. You can, for instance, unlock every single weapon mod over the course of the game, and upgrade all of them to max if you're really diligent about exploring, but you'll probably find switching between them to be a bit of a nuisance and just stick to whichever mod is more effective or more fun to use. Other things (like "climb ledges faster" or "launch into glory kills from greater distance") I just didn't care about whatsoever. And by the end of the game (playing on normal mode) I felt so over-powered that there was little challenge and limited risk of death outside of boss fights.

The boss fights, I should mention, are really solid. There are only a handful of actual boss battles in this game (you're frequently introduced to newer, stronger enemies as mini-bosses as part of the ordinary gameplay), but these few that you encounter are on par with Dark Souls bosses in terms of their design and behavior. That is to say, the bosses in DOOM have specified sets of attacks and behaviors that they cycle throughout the fight, and so each boss involves a particular learning curve as you become familiar with their attacks, learning how to dodge each one and finding the most opportune moments to attack.

Dodging pinwheel fire jets from a boss.

I also feel that there are a few too many weapons and items in your arsenal, to the point that switching weapons becomes cumbersome while rendering others obsolete. By the end of the game you have: a pistol, a combat shotgun, a super shotgun, a heavy assault rifle, a minigun, a plasma rifle, a railgun, a rocket launcher, a chainsaw, the BFG 9000, fragmenting grenades, life-siphoning grenades, and holographic decoys. In my experience the pistol, combat shotgun, and heavy assault rifle all became obsolete once I got stronger weapons, and I kept constantly forgetting that I even had the chainsaw, BFG, or grenades at my disposal, because those three are mapped to their own unique keys and I always found it more intuitive just to keep shooting things with my regular guns.

It's worth noting that the chainsaw functions a lot differently than it did in other games. Whereas before it was just a basic melee weapon where you stood there cutting through enemies and getting mauled in the process, it's now a limited-use "one-hit-kill" that costs gasoline to use, consuming more gas against more powerful enemies. I found that aspect underwhelming, because common enemies are easy to kill with regular weaponry, and the stronger mini-boss enemies (like mancubuses, hell knights, or barons of hell) take so much gas to kill that you basically use the chainsaw once and then have to wait forever until you find more gas to use it again. The real reason to use the chainsaw is that it causes enemies to spew out tons of ammo when they die, so there's some tactical decision-making to be made in terms of "do I use it on lesser enemies to keep my ammo reserves up or use it on the tough enemies so I spend less ammo killing them," but on normal difficulty I rarely ever had problems running out of ammo, especially since I was committing so much time to exploration that I was always at or near max on everything.

I'm also not very fond of the checkpoint-only save system. I realize that "save anywhere" quick-saves can trivialize difficulty when you can save before a fight and reload it you do poorly, but since there's so much exploration involved in this game, with a lot of instant-kills if you miss a jump or try to go somewhere the game didn't anticipate, you can end up replaying significant portions of levels (having to kill certain enemies again, or having to collect health/armor/ammo all over again) every time you mess up and die. Which, as an avid explorer constantly trying to test the limits of the explorable space, meant I was frequently dying and having to replay segments of each level, trying to remember what all I had done between the last checkpoint and when I died. Fortunately some things persist after death, like upgrade points and weapon mod discoveries, but regular pickups for health, armor, and ammo don't.

Seeing digital ghosts of soldiers in Hell.

I'm not sure where I fall on the soundtrack. It felt suitably epic and awesome during battles and appropriately atmospheric during moments of exploration, but in retrospect I can't remember anything about it. I've listened to the soundtrack a few times while writing this review and still nothing really stands out to me. I've also watched several videos on the "making of" behind the music, and while it all sounds technically impressive and creative, the actual music, particularly during fights, feels kind of bland and generic to me. It all feels like repetitive industrial/thrash riffs with droning tones underneath, which to my ears is just noise. I can't pick out any sort of melody anywhere, and the riffs themselves are too busy and hover too closely around a singular root pitch to stand out as anything more than "fast tremolo-picking guitar licks." So while everything works great at complementing the action and tone of the gameplay, it doesn't really work for me on a musical level.

I could complain about the story feeling compulsory and tacked-on, but I really can't, because the story in these games simply doesn't matter; it's just a pretense to get players shooting demons with some kind of reason to move on to the next level. In a game of this sort, you don't want an in-depth, complicated story distracting from the action and gameplay, so while there's nothing to write home about in this department there's also nothing to complain about. You can dig into the backstory through a wealth of audio logs and lore stones if you really desire, but frankly, I skipped most of those so I could focus on the gameplay.

And the gameplay really is top-notch. I'm not sure I've done a good enough job explaining exactly why (I'm rushing on my one day off to try to finish this review before the month's out, and I'm four beers deep at the moment), but I feel like shooters are usually pretty self-explanatory; as long as you know what you're getting into before you start playing, you should already know whether you'll enjoy a particular shooter or not. I wasn't really sure when I started playing DOOM, but I ended up thoroughly enjoying it. There's nothing mind-blowingly awesome about it, mind you -- I suspect in a year or two I'll have completely forgotten about it -- but it's a solid, competent shooter that does a really good job of recreating that old-school vibe without feeling like some kind of gimmicky, anachronistic "retro throwback" shooter. Hopefully more shooters will follow its example and we'll see more games like this in the near future.

Impressions of Mass Effect 2

Mass Effect 2 Sucks

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The first game I ever reviewed on this blog was the original Mass Effect, back in 2011. You can go back and read the review if you desire, but the whole thing is crudely written and doesn't really capture the nuance of how I felt about the game. It's been so long at this point that I can't elaborate on those thoughts any further, because I simply can't remember much of anything from ME1, except to say that I remember generally enjoying the game despite being constantly annoyed by simple, repetitive gameplay and obnoxious enemy-scaling and loot-scaling.

For years I've been hearing about how Mass Effect 2 was supposedly better than the original. A quick scan of google search results shows hundreds of articles and forum posts from 2010 heralding it as one of the greatest RPGs -- nay, greatest games, period -- of all time, while more recent articles with years of hindsight continue to sing its praises and laud its place in the pantheon of video game history. Apparently these people have never played good RPGs -- or good games, for that matter -- or else they all have wildly different definitions than I do as to what constitutes a "good" game, because there's virtually nothing about Mass Effect 2 that I can actually praise apart from its slick presentation and general aesthetic.


Story

The story in Mass Effect 2 follows a familiar three-act structure, consisting of: Act I, in which we're introduced to a new threat known as the Collectors abducting human colonies two years after the events of the first game, following the death of series protagonist Commander Shepard and his subsequent resurrection by the Cerberus organization; Act II, in which Shepard assembles a team to help fight the Collectors while also responding to reports of Collector activity in the galaxy; and Act III, in which Shepard and his team launch a high-stakes "suicide mission" by bringing the fight to the Collectors in their home territory in unknown space.

There's nothing original or particularly interesting about this premise -- in fact, it's pretty much a video game cliche. Stop me if you've heard this one before: there's an evil, mysterious force looming somewhere in the background threatening all life as we know it, and you're the only one who can stop it. We've been there a thousand times before in video games (especially when it comes to BioWare games), but I'm willing to look past such simplistic plot structures if there's actually a good story going on within it, with interesting characters, plot twists, and good pacing. Unfortunately, there's not much of anything going on in these departments.

Horribly cliche dialogue from the very beginning of the game.

I'll discuss the characters later, but the story in Mass Effect 2 feels practically non-existent to me, because there really isn't a story. The entire game is just a premise, a framework meant to give you 20-40 hours of gameplay while the story gets relegated to bookends at the very beginning and end of the game, with two short, 20-minute missions strategically sprinkled into the second act to create an illusion of pace and progression. The vast, overwhelming majority of the game takes place during the second act when you're assembling your team, and literally everything during this section (including assembling your team and developing their loyalty) feels secondary or even tertiary to the main theme of stopping the Collectors.

The idea of assembling your team and learning to work together could be an interesting plot device if it were executed correctly, but it's not. You're not really building a team as much as you are completing a Collect-A-Thon, much like rescuing Sages in Ocarina of Time. It doesn't matter who you bring on missions, who you talk to, or how you react to different situations, because every crew member exists in a binary state of being either loyal or neutral, the only factor being "did you do their loyalty quest?" Missions don't test crew member loyalty, and with two minor, arbitrarily shoehorned exceptions, crew members don't interact with each other whatsoever. So, this whole portion of the game's story -- which spans the bulk of the game's play time -- is essentially just one giant check-list. It's not there to serve any important role in the overarching story, but rather to give you a series of sub-goals to complete before moving on to the final mission.

Investigating the Collector ship, complete with JJ Abrams lens flare.

Throughout this whole ordeal I felt no intrinsic motivation to do anything, because the conflict was never really established. All the game tells you is that human colonies are being abducted, and you have to stop it, except they don't know enough about the bad guys to actually do anything about it, so in the mean time "go do stuff and we'll get back to you later." Setting out to start the game I had no idea who the villain was, who the victims were, or what I was ultimately trying to accomplish (besides the general premise of "stop the bad guys, somehow"); I had no personal stake in the story, and my own character wanted nothing to do with Cerberus. The whole time I'm thinking "why am I working for these people, why did they go through all this trouble to bring me back, and why should I care" while I spent endless hours scanning planets, upgrading my character and ship, and completing random "fetch this" or "kill this" side-missions for random people.

Meanwhile, the game also suffers from BioWare's heavy-handed storytelling that relies too heavily on elaborate cutscenes and prolonged dialogue sequences where you have no control over anything. A lot of dialogue sequences are simply info dumps where you just go through all the options to be bombarded with exposition that BioWare apparently couldn't convey in any other form besides having a character spew verbal diarrhea at you. I was actively annoyed at the start of the game when I had to sit through 15 minutes of cutscenes to get to anything resembling actual gameplay, and then was genuinely irritated when I decided to start over with a different class and couldn't skip those intro cutscenes. Then, once you initiate the climax of the game (the "suicide mission"), seemingly half of it plays out in cutscenes based on possible decisions you made earlier. The whole thing feels like a case of "style over substance," where the game is screaming "look at me, look at me! Isn't this cool and exciting? Don't you wish you could actually play these scenes instead of just watching them?"


Characters

In the absence of an actual story with plot points, developments, twists, or rising action, the thing you're supposed to care about is the game's wealth of characters -- getting to know them and helping them solve their problems. Except much like the story, most of the time I felt myself not actually caring about any of them.

To me, most of the characters felt one-dimensional, as if during the creative process they were given a single character trait (sometimes just the default trait of their particular species) and then had their entire character built from that one, single trait, often resembling cliche, stereotypical archetypes. Thane is the stoic assassin, Grunt is the specimen bred to be the perfect warrior, Samara is the "lawful good" wise old lady, Jacob is the dutiful-but-principled soldier, Mordin is the eccentric scientist, Legion's the ... robot ... and so on. At one point, Jack flat-out says "I'm a pissed-off bitch," and I was reminded of that scene in Futurama when the Robot Devil criticizes Fry's writing by decrying "You can't just have your characters announce how they feel! That makes me feel angry!" Like, thanks Jack, I didn't need you to define your character for me, it was already painfully obvious.

Um, ok, but like, we only just met. I don't buy your story.

Although you learn more about each character's backstory (and, to some degrees, their personality) during their loyalty missions, they don't change or evolve as you develop camaraderie with them, because you never really develop camaraderie with them. There is no gradient scale of characters warming up to you and building their trust with you; they simply join your team if you show up and ask them to, as long as you solve whatever problem they're currently dealing with in that very moment. Then, you earn their loyalty by going on one, single mission and solving a personal problem that they're apparently incapable of solving without your help. Granted, it takes some conversation to reach that point where they're willing to reveal their personal issues to you, but these are all a simplistic matter of periodically making rounds on the ship after important missions and listening to your crew members talk about themselves. You just do that enough times and everyone eventually opens up to you.

In most cases, I had no idea why they were opening up to me, or why they even agreed to join me on a suicide mission in the first place. A character like Samara, for instance, who's a thousand years old and has sired three children, tells me, after knowing me for what feels like a few days, that she's never felt a connection with anyone like the one she feels with me. This, after she swears an oath of allegiance to me which apparently supersedes the Justicar oath which has been guiding her life and all of her actions for the past few hundred years. Romance options, in that vein, are equally cheesy and unrealistic, as it only takes a few occasional conversations and being generally nice to someone before they start talking about wanting to have sex with you. By the end of the game I had two different romantic prospects who were both telling me to pick one of them, even though I wasn't actually trying to romance either one of them.

Cat fight between Miranda and Jack.

For the most part, crew members don't even interact with one another. On the ship, everyone has their own private room where they hang out separately from everyone else, doing absolutely nothing until you come talk to them. On missions, you can interact with the environment to get a few lines from different characters, and usually each character that you have with you will say something in a cutscene, but they feel completely interchangeable and they never actually talk to or with anyone -- they just drop a random line here and there. The only time characters actually interact is in the case of Miranda and Jack, and Tali and Legion, where each pair gets into a fight if you do both of their loyalty quests, forcing you to pick a side. I like the idea of conflict between party members, but in this case it feels awkwardly shoehorned for the sake of drama; the whole time everyone's like "I want what's best for the mission," but then people decide to get upset at me and other squad mates (thereby jeopardizing what's best for the mission) just because I helped someone else resolve a personal problem.

Shame you don't practice what you preach, or we wouldn't have loyalty issues.

The loyalty missions often feel like they come out of nowhere, for no reason. I pretty much hate the fact that most of them follow a simple pattern of "I'm sorry to bother you Shepard, but something just came up with my father / brother / nephew / cousin / former roommate, which had been completely dormant in my life until just now, and I'd like to take care of it but I know we have to focus on dying horribly in a suicide mission, but if you can find the time to swing by this star system I'd greatly appreciate it, even though I don't want to distract from our important mission." In each case, the mission is a completely unrelated stand-alone scenario that contributes nothing to the overarching plot of stopping the Collectors, and I found it hard to care about helping some of them whom I felt like I barely knew. Some of their stories are alright and can actually be quite touching, but others were completely forgettable and felt almost pointless.

Meanwhile, I feel like there are just too many crew members, to the point that you inevitably start to forget about some of them, intentionally or unintentionally. It's a bit cumbersome to spread your attention among 10 different crew members, and some of them show up so late in the game that you don't get enough time to develop any kind of rapport with them, despite completing their loyalty mission. Since you can only ever take two with you on a mission, that means eight will always be sitting on the ship doing absolutely nothing, thus giving you zero opportunities to interact with them outside of their canned conversations between missions, where you simply listen to them talk about themselves. For a few characters, talking to them and doing their loyalty missions felt more like a chore because I just had no interest in them whatsoever. I would've preferred having half as many characters who were twice as deep, than twice as many who're only half as deep.


Role-playing

Considering BioWare's reputation with esteemed RPGs such as Baldur's Gate, Neverwinter Nights, Knights of the Old Republic, and Dragon Age: Origins, you would expect Mass Effect 2 to have pretty good (or at least decent) RPG mechanics, despite being more of an action-RPG hybrid. Unfortunately that's not the case, as most of the game's RPG elements feel so heavily watered down and poorly implemented that it barely feels like an RPG at all.

The main source of role-playing comes in the form of dialogue options, where you get to choose what type of personality Commander Shepard will have, opting for either "Paragon" (good) or "Renegade" (bad) options. I applauded the system in ME1, because I felt like it allowed you to role-play differently depending on the situation (being nice and friendly with crew members, curt and forceful with random strangers) without penalizing you for acting out of character, but the system in ME2 punishes you for splitting your paragon and renegade options, or even for playing neutral and avoiding either of the extreme ends, by ensuring that you won't have enough progress in either to resolve critical situations later in the game.

Picking a Renegade "intimidate" option in dialogue.

The actual calculation for whether you can successfully use a charm or intimidate option is essentially a ratio of how consistently you choose one option or another -- not how many "points" you actually have, as the in-game menus would suggest. A typical conversation, for instance, might give you the opportunity to earn either 10 paragon or 10 renegade points; if you go full paragon then you'll have earned 100% of the paragon points available to you, and 0% of the renegade points. If, in the next conversation, you split your paragon and renegade options, you'll have earned 75% of all possible paragon points and 25% of all possible renegade points. Any time you pick neutral options, which don't give you any points, your percentage in each category goes down because you're increasing the denominator (possible chances to earn points) while leaving the numerator (actual points earned) the same. Charming or intimidating someone, therefore, requires your percentages to be above a certain threshold; a difficult target might require 75% (or more) in either category to succeed, and if you're splitting your paragon and renegade choices too evenly throughout the game, or worse, picking neutral options, then your ratios will never be high enough to succeed at tougher challenges.

So really, the morality system in this game goes right back to the broken system of Knights of the Old Republic where you essentially have to pick one alignment and then mindlessly stick to it for the entire game if you actually want to use those high-end persuasion options, because any time you increase one side of the spectrum you're decreasing the other side. That, I feel, takes a lot of the role-playing out of this supposed role-playing game, since you don't really think about how different actions might yield different results in different situations, and especially since there's no reward and therefore no incentive for being neutral (in fact, you're actually punished hard for it) which to me always feels like the best, most reasonable choice. It also turns the morality and dialogue system into a much more selfish matter where you pick options based primarily on what's best for you and your alignment, not what's best for another character or the outcome of the story.

Even then it's hard to tell exactly what Shepard is going to say or do in any given scenario, despite picking an apparently "good" or "bad" option. Sometimes taking a renegade option means either being slightly annoyed or royally pissed-off, and the vague text you get in the dialogue wheel doesn't always clue you in to how extreme Shepard's response will be. Mass Effect 2 also introduces timed reactions to the morality system, where an icon flashes briefly on screen during a cutscene and you have a limited amount of time to decide if you want to take a paragon or renegade action, with even less hint of what that action will actually entail. On one occasion, when faced with a yammering news reporter, picking the renegade option caused me to suckerpunch her in the face, and I stared at the screen in utter shock. At other times, even with the default dialogue options, what seems like a friendly paragon option could end up taking a much too friendly turn. As a bottom line, you're not always sure what Shepard is going to do until it happens.

Such a great payoff for that quest. Makes me all warm and tingly inside.

Not that it really matters, since there's practically no consequence for anything you do, unless you're carrying your save into Mass Effect 3. Any choice you make is fleeting and insignificant, only reflected in your alignment meter and maybe, just maybe, you'll get an email from someone a little later saying "hey, thanks for helping me" or "you jerk, this is what happened to me after you did that." And that's it. Throughout the whole game I can only think of a handful of situations where a decision I made actually mattered, and actually affected something else later in the game. One of the loyalty missions, for instance, can be completed much more easily if you helped/saved two other characters previously in the game, and a choice during another loyalty mission determines which crew member you'll end up with, while a couple conflicts between crew members force you to pick which one will remain loyal. Besides those (and a few others), every other consequence is either superficial or left entirely unresolved, presumably until Mass Effect 3.

Besides that, the whole dialogue system feels cookie-cutter and irritating to me. In every single instance, you just go through the list picking all of the options on the left side to get as much information as possible, and then choose either a good, bad, or neutral option from the right when you're forced to. And that's it. There's minimal decision-making or actual role-playing in dialogue, since you're almost always just exhausting a list of topics and then picking a reaction from two or three basic choices, which are all predictably the same options every time.


Progression

As an RPG (again, supposedly), Mass Effect 2 grants you experience points for completing missions, grants you skill points to invest in assorted abilities when you level up, and features a number of other ways to improve your character as the game progresses, from researching upgrades with resources earned from scanning planets to buying new armor pieces to finding new types of weaponry. And, sadly, everything about leveling up and progressing in this game is lame.

The skill trees, for instance, are entirely linear and incredibly basic. For the most part, you only have six skills to choose from, some of which are completely passive and simply increase your stats each time you put points in that skill, while others are different types of ammunition that remain in constant effect until you switch it to something else. With squadmates, you only get four options to choose from, one or two of which are passive and one of which is locked out until you complete their loyalty mission. The downfall of the skill system, primarily, is that all skills can be unlocked relatively early in the game, and then, as the game progresses and you upgrade them further, all you're really doing is improving their stats. In other words, the gameplay doesn't change or evolve as you level up and get stronger -- you simply become more effective at what you're already doing. The only branching choice with each skill comes when you max it out and you're given one of two choices for the final upgrade, but even then the two options often do the exact same thing, but with slightly different stats (e.g., do you take +25% health and +18% weapon damage, or +18% health and +25% weapon damage?).

Just pick your favorite skills and max them out.

There's also no more inventory in Mass Effect 2, which I feel is kind of a staple element in RPGs. Everything that you pick up disappears into hammer space, and for most of it, there's no way (and no need to) access any of it later. For things like weapons and armor, you pick what you want from a menu on your ship, but there are only so many options to choose from and you'll likely end up finding a desirable combination and sticking with that for the entire game. You only ever unlock three different types of weapon in each category, for instance, over the course of the entire game. As an infiltrator focusing on sniper rifles, I had: the basic starter option, a rapid-fire (but lower damage) sniper, and a essentially a straight upgrade of the starter rifle (better damage, higher ammo capacity). I really only had two choices, and in my case, I stuck with the one that gave me more damage per shot, meaning I was essentially using the same gun for the entirety of the game.

Meanwhile, you can research a ton of different upgrades by spending resources earned from scanning planets, but you can earn so many of these resources that you can afford literally every research in the game, so there's no strategy in what you pick, no need to role-play a specific type of character build. And since enemies seem to scale with you as you level up and get stronger, every upgrade you acquire doesn't really make you feel any stronger, it just negates the advantage the enemies get from also getting stronger. It's kind of disappointing to play an RPG where you unlock all of the fun stuff early on, then spend the rest of the game feeling like you're not actually getting stronger, but essentially just running in place.


Missions

Most missions in this game are boring, simplistic, and formulaic, consisting almost entirely of "go somewhere, shoot your way through a linear level cluttered with random enemies and cover sources, then press the action button on a thing at the end of the level." That's literally all you do; you get maybe a few sentences of setup for what the mission entails, and maybe you get a few text logs somewhere in the level, but otherwise it's completely bland, forgettable action scenarios with no hint of interesting storytelling, goals, or gameplay. This is especially true of side missions picked up on "hub worlds" and anomalous side-missions you discover while "exploring" planets, which more often than not boil down to simple item-fetching or enemy-killing, ie, generic excuses to give you people to talk to or people to shoot.

There's a mission on the Citadel, for instance, where you stumble into a scene in which a Volus merchant is accusing a Quarian drifter of stealing his credit chip, while a C-Sec officer is there responding to the report on the verge of arresting the Quarian. So you're given a situation with possibly two or three sides to the story, and you have to go into detective mode to solve the problem, figuring out what actually happened. And then you wander around, talk to one person, and, oh, the Volus just left his credit chip in the last store he was at, so you go back and say that to the C-Sec officer, and that's the end of the quest. What a let down. Also on the Citadel, you overhear two Krogan talking about real fish living in the waters on the Presidium level, and how much they'd love to eat some of them. And so you wander around, talk to some people, and either buy a fish to sell to them or tell them the truth, that there are no fish in the Presidium waters. And that's the end of that quest.

Picking up a mission to investigate fish.

Not every mission is this simplistic or generic, mind you, but even the ones that try to present a unique twist, either mechanically or thematically, prove disappointing. One of the planet anomalies has you land on a planet enshrouded in thick fog, and you're supposed to follow the path of guiding laser beams to reach your destination while being attacked by giant bugs, one of which is enormous and only ever seen in the distance. A cool concept, certainly, but the whole level is so linear that there's zero risk of ever getting lost, and therefore no real need to use the guiding laser beacons, and that giant boss-looking bug never shows up for an actual fight. Another planet anomaly tasks you with repairing the planet's solar shield -- a puzzle where you have to direct power to the correct consoles and activate them in the correct order. An interesting change of pace, but the "puzzle" is so simple since there are only three consoles, and it should make logical, intuitive sense which ones need to be done in what order, such that it takes less than a minute to solve it.

Samara trying to kill her daughter, DBZ-style.

Even the loyalty missions prove disappointing when it comes to actual gameplay mechanics. One of the more interesting ones involves tracking down Samara's daughter, who's been psychotically killing people during moments of passion because of a rare genetic disorder. Eventually you track her to a club, and have to find a way to lure her out of hiding by catching her interest, and then seduce her so that she'll bring you back to her apartment, where Samara will be waiting to spring a trap. Getting her attention involves a bunch of possibilities, in terms of what you do in the club and how you behave, and then seducing her plays out entirely through the dialogue system -- choosing the right things to say at the right time to pique her interest. This situation has a lot of potential for fun, social role-playing, but the whole thing is so simple and straightforward, because Samara literally tells you exactly what to say and do right before (and during) the mission, and all you really have to do is name-drop the handful of blatantly obvious things you've learned about her from your investigation, and you're golden.

The famed "suicide mission" at the very end of the game isn't much better, either. As mentioned previously in the "story" section, a lot of it plays out in cutscenes completely beyond your control, while virtually all of the actual gameplay consists of the usual hum-drum scenarios of cover-based shooting in linear levels. The only mechanical difference is at one point when you have to race through the level activating switches to keep one of your crew members moving through a ventilation duct, and later when you have to stay within the protective bubble that one of your biotic crew members puts up as you move through the level. There's some decision-making to be made, at least, in terms of which crew member you assign to which duty, which can possibly affect your success rate of the suicide mission (in terms of who survives it), but this doesn't have much of an impact on the game itself, since it's practically over by this point, unless you're planning to carry your save file into Mass Effect 3.


Exploration

Exploration in Mass Effect 2 is boring, tedious, and unrewarding. Everywhere you can go in the entire galaxy is already laid-out for you from the start of the game, with progressively more star systems opening up as you progress the main story and buy additional star charts. In practice, you're not actually exploring anywhere -- you're just going down a check-list of available planets in available star systems and seeing which ones have anomalies (ie, side-missions where you land on the planet to actually do something) associated with them. In the vast majority of cases, you won't stumble upon any anomalies, and you'll be left with nothing to do on that planet except scan it for resources -- a dumb, simple, repetitive, mindless "mini-game" where you move a cursor around the planet's surface looking for hot-spots, akin to playing "Line Graph Simulator." That's literally what I did for close to half of my 42 hour play time: stare at planets watching for a line graph to spike.

This image comprises roughly 50% of actual gameplay in Mass Effect 2.

In a galaxy consisting of literally hundreds of planets, moons, space stations, orbiting ships, and so on -- all of which you can actually go to -- only about 20 of these have anomalies associated with them, where you get to land and run around on foot doing things. As mentioned previously at the top of the "missions" section, these planetary anomalies are all incredibly basic, simple, and straightforward scenarios where you just spend five minutes shooting things, essentially just walking down a linear path playing a whop-a-mole shooting gallery. There's no real level design in any of these missions, and practically zero opportunity to explore anywhere, except maybe turning around and checking to see if there's anything hidden behind the shuttle. Everything else is laid out in painfully obvious spots along the one-and-only path through the entire level. This is true even of main mission levels, where everything is a single, linear route from beginning to end.

Of these hundreds of places you can visit, only four of them are actual hubs -- places where you get to talk to random NPCs, go shopping, pick up missions, and so on. None of these feel like actual hubs because, like the random planetary anomaly missions, they're all incredibly confined and claustrophobic. Omega and Illium consist of tiny rooms and random hallways with no sense of organized structure, while the Citadel -- the capital of sentient activity in the galaxy -- is three floors in a shopping mall and a single office room. Tuchanka, the Krogan homeworld, is a literal hole in the wall consisting of essentially one room. Except for a few mundane fetch quests, most missions you pick up send you to a completely separate map that only exists for the purpose and duration of that one mission, and so everything feels disjointed and unrelated to everything else.

Illium: beautiful vistas in the background, but nowhere to actually go.

I miss the feeling of Knights of the Old Republic and Dragon Age: Origins where every place you went was its own hub area full of side-quests, merchants, and things to do, with main quests that tied directly into the main story line. Each area usually had its own conflict or story that you had to solve as part of the main quest, and you were given a lot of freedom to decide where to go and what to do. Each area was like an entire world, or sandbox, if you will. In Mass Effect 2, the sandboxes feel smaller in quantity and also smaller in scope -- everywhere you go feels more restrictive, with less to do and less to see, than other locations from similar games in this genre (and even by the same developer). Sure, you've got a bunch of planetary anomalies, mission maps, loyalty missions, and other places where you can go to do things, but they're always only for one, specific purpose, and once you're finished with them you can never go back to do anything else.

There's no feeling of wonder and discovery in this game, that satisfaction that comes from pushing the boundaries and seeing what's out there, being left to your own devices to discover game content that others might miss. You can go places and complete main missions (recruiting crew members and completing their loyalty missions) in almost any order you want, but it really doesn't matter because everything in this game exists in its own private bubble, laid out for your gaming convenience in a series of checklists that show actual percentages of how much you've seen and done in each star system. Many of the planetary anomalies exist in remote areas of the game that you could possibly miss without thorough "exploration," but these side missions are so short and inconsequential that, again, it doesn't really matter if you do them or not.


Combat

Combat in Mass Effect 2 is technically functional but not really that good, in the same way that a used 1998 Ford Taurus with 200,000 miles will get you where you need to go but it won't be very comfortable or stylish in the process. A lot of the controls in this game feel awkward and clunky, especially when it comes to combat. As a third-person cover-based shooter, you spend virtually the entire game in cover and shooting from behind cover, but this system isn't very fluid, often leaving you in situations where you're struggling to get in and out of cover (because some things that look like cover can't be used as cover, or your character attaches himself to the wrong cover source) and randomly unable to shoot from behind certain cover sources that look like you should be able to stand up and shoot over. Sometimes your perspective randomly switches shoulders (or doesn't switch when it should) and you're left shooting over the right shoulder when looking around the left edge of a cover source. The whole thing is generally smooth and functional, mind you, but these kinds of things happen way too often and can really muck up the feeling of combat (and even get you killed on higher difficulties) when they strike.

Popping up from cover to shoot a dude.

Squad AI isn't very good, either. I certainly don't expect AI-controlled party members to play as intelligently as I would, but my squad mates frequently border on outright incompetency. If I leave them alone and let them do their own thing, then they're frequently running into enemy fire or not choosing cover sources correctly and getting incapacitated; if I try to micro-manage their positioning they take the most inconvenient route to the cover source I've indicated and still fail to do basic things like protecting my flank while enemies stream down the sides and ignore my squad mates to come straight for me. Frequently they'll just sit behind cover doing nothing when there's a clear opening to shoot, or else pick the wrong times to step out of cover to shoot, like when a flurry of rockets is flying straight at their faces. It's not such a huge issue that it breaks the game, by any means, but I quickly reached a point where I gave up trying to keep squad mates alive.

Yes, you jump over that cover source while rockets are flying our way, Jack.

Technical blemishes aside, the combat system isn't that deep, I feel. Virtually every combat situation is the same as the last: linear levels with cover sources spread throughout, where you sit in one spot popping headshots, waiting behind cover to heal, occasionally using powers and switching ammo types as the situations demand, and having more dudes stream in from the back of the arena every time you kill a "wave" of enemies. And it's not that challenging, either; any time you're on the verge of death you just dip behind cover and let yourself heal back up, or else pop one of the abundantly available medi-gels; if you find yourself getting flanked in these incredibly linear levels where enemies typically just come straight at you, then you're doing an incredibly poor job managing the situation. That was my experience playing as a sniper-heavy infiltrator on "veteran" difficulty, at least. I never really felt challenged, and I quickly grew bored of the repetitive level design and combat scenarios. The combat isn't bad per se, but I feel like there's too much time and emphasis spent on it for how mediocre it actually is.


Conclusion

There's plenty more that I could criticize about Mass Effect 2 (the narrow FOV, all the random crashes, constantly getting stuck floating above the ground, the wonky targeting system for the action button, the UI with those giant windows that pop up to spam simple information at you after every conversation, the immersion-breaking "mission complete" screens, the cheesy canned dialogue exchanges between crew members when you walk by, the gimmicky facial scarring that changes based on character alignment, etc), but anything else is fairly nitpicky compared to the major, glaring issues described above.

Mass Effect 2 is simply not a good game, by any definition. It's not a very good RPG, it's not a very good third-person shooter, it's not a very good sandbox game, it's not a very good story game -- every individual aspect of this game feels like it's been diluted to such a degree to fit in with the grander scheme of a widely-accessible "space-shooter-rpg" that nothing in it is actually that satisfying. Large chunks of it, from the non-existent story to the repetitive combat scenarios, are actually detriments to the game's overall quality, as far as I'm concerned. As the middle portion of [what was originally intended to be] a trilogy, much of Mass Effect 2 seems like it's simply trying to bridge the gap between the first and third games in the series while smoothing out (ie, streamlining) some of the first game's rougher elements. Perhaps taken in the grander context of the full trilogy, Mass Effect 2 works fine as that bridge, but having been so dissatisfied with it I have absolutely zero desire to give Mass Effect 3 a chance.

This War of Mine - Review

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This War of Mine (2014) is a point-and-click resource-management survival-simulator in which you play as a group of civilians attempting to survive as long as possible in a city that's under siege as part of an active civil war. The original hype surrounding this game centered entirely on how starkly it contrasted with typical military shooters (which tend to glorify war and murder) by putting you in the shoes of regular people -- not soldiers -- who have to suffer all of the hellish effects of war, despite being innocent bystanders. Although the game is decently engaging from a mechanical standpoint, it's really just a simple, run-of-the-mill survival-simulator; the real reason to play This War of Mine is to explore its theme of what it might be like to be a random civilian trying to survive a war, and to see a completely different wartime perspective than what's usually on offer in video games.

The game plays out over a series of day and night phases, lasting anywhere from 20 to 50 days before the siege comes to a halt and you "win the game," if you survived long enough to reach the cease-fire. You lose the game if your characters all die before reaching the cease-fire. During the night phase, you send one character out to go scavenging for supplies and resources, which plays a bit like a stealth or adventure game as you rummage through debris at various locations and sometimes interact with (or avoid) other NPCs; during the day phase, you use the resources you gathered from the previous night to fix up your shelter and build new tools, weapons, and appliances. As a rogue-lite "play until you die, then try again" sort of game, you will most likely fail your first attempt, and you're encouraged to try again (even when you succeed) because the randomized elements, in conjunction with playing as different characters, will offer a slightly different experience.

Three survivors band together in a ruined shelter.

A game of This War of Mine begins by picking a group of survivors to play as. Each survivor has their own little backstory along with some type of special skill and, in some cases, special needs. A character like Bruno, for instance, is a good cook and can prepare meals using fewer resources, but has a smoking addiction and will be adversely affected the longer he goes without tobacco; Katia is a news reporter who can barter with other survivors more effectively, but needs coffee to operate at peak efficiency. These survivors are assembled into different groupings, which also serve as different scenarios -- although the core gameplay will remain the same from group scenario to group scenario, one group may start in the middle of winter while another group plays out entirely in spring, or another group may encounter a rise in crime really early while another group encounters the rise in crime much later.

In addition to these scripted scenario changes, each playthrough brings with it different randomized elements, so that even playing with the same group of characters in the same scenario will present different challenges and events each time. When you start a new game, you'll always start with a different amount of random items and resources, which you gain from scavenging the rubble of your ruined shelter. Likewise, when you leave the shelter to go exploring during the night phase, the amount and type of items/resources you find will be randomized. The locations you can visit outside of the shelter also vary from game to game, although there might only be a handful of differences. While exploring these locations you sometimes encounter random events, which may be different (or not occur at all) on another playthrough. The day phase sometimes brings random events as well, with people showing up at your door looking to trade or asking for help.

Kids these days, begging for hand-outs. Maybe they should get a job if they want medicine for their sick and dying mother. 

Like most survival games, you have a lot to consider when it comes to keeping your characters alive, and as such, the crux of the gameplay comes from managing a limited supply of resources and prioritizing your interests. Each character has multiple gauges measuring their status in different fields like how hungry they are, how tired they are, how injured they are, how healthy they are, and how happy they are. If any of those meters reaches critical levels, a character is likely to die, which could be from starvation, illness, injury, or even suicide. Naturally, each condition requires different tools and resources to both treat and prevent. You need food to prevent starvation, obviously, but you also need a stove to cook it on, along with fuel and water to actually cook the meal. If someone's sick from cold temperatures, then you need a heater and fuel to raise the temperature of your shelter, along with a bed and medicine so they can rest and recuperate.

None of this is available to you at the start of the game; all you start with is a basic work bench for crafting all of these various tools, items, and appliances, plus a single wooden chair and whatever randomized parts and salvage you can find in the rubble of your ruined shelter. At first, your goals are simple: build some beds to sleep in, patch up the damaged walls of the shelter, and maybe make a stove to cook food on, all of which only requires a few basic materials like wood and "components," the easiest stuff to find. Other necessities like food, bandages, medicine, and weapons must be scavenged from surrounding locations in the city on a near nightly basis because you don't yet have the advanced materials or sophisticated crafting infrastructure to produce these things. As the game progresses, the amount of available resources you can scavenge declines, but if you've been upgrading your shelter sufficiently you'll be able to produce everything you need to survive from within your own shelter.

A look at the advanced workshop crafting screen.

The crafting system comprises roughly half of the gameplay in This War of Mine, and it's simple enough to be accessible while also complicated enough to be satisfying -- an ideal sweet spot as far as I'm concerned. To build a radio, you simply need to have seven components and two electrical parts, and select it from the crafting station. For 14 components, seven wood, and five parts, you can upgrade the workshop so that you can make better things, like animal traps, an herbal garden, and so on. For 10 components and five wood, you can make a metal workshop where you can make tools like a crowbar, knife, lockpick, etc, and as you upgrade the workshop you can make firearms, ammunition, and armor. Other things you can build: a rain collector (which needs filters to create safe drinking water), a heater (which needs fuel to keep your shelter warm), an herbal workshop (for creating cigarettes, herbal remedies, and medicine), and a still (for making moonshine and alcohol), among other tools and appliances.

The goal of the game, besides simply surviving, is to reach a point when you're completely self-sufficient from within your own shelter, such that you don't have to risk your life by going out scavenging at night. How you get to that point is probably the game's most satisfying element since the crafting system opens up tremendously and becomes more and more elaborate as you upgrade your shelter. A seemingly simple task like making bandages, for instance, requires that you build a still so you can produce moonshine, which requires water, which requires you to build a rainwater collector and a filter for it, plus fuel made from wood or books or components, then you need to upgrade your workshop so that you can build an herbal workshop and an herb garden, which you'll have to use to make fertilizer from food, which you get from making animal traps, and then use the fertilizer to grow herbs, then you need to upgrade the workshop again so that you can build an improved alcohol distiller, which also requires you to build a thermo regulator, so that you can convert the moonshine you made earlier into pure alcohol, then go back to the herbal workshop with your pure alcohol, herbs, and components to finally make bandages. All of which ends up requiring over 250 total resources, just to reach a point where you can produce a single bandage.

A look at the city map. Grayed-out locations are currently inaccessible.

To get all of those resources, you have to go out scavenging at night, which comprises the other half of the gameplay. Scavenging plays like a two-dimensional side-scrolling stealth/adventure game. Each night you select where you want to go from a list of available options describing rough estimates of what you can expect at each location. Once there, you explore the new location by rummaging through piles of rubble, checking inside cabinets and nightstands, and so on. Each character has an inventory limit which forces you to prioritize what you bring back each night, since you'll likely find much more than you can carry. Sometimes an area will have some type of danger associated with it -- there might be a sniper in the background that you have to avoid by running from cover to cover, or there might be armed bandits patrolling the area, in which case you have to move more slowly to avoid making noise, peer through keyholes to see what's in a room before entering it, listen for footsteps and conversations, and avoid line of sight.

You have limited means to defend yourself early on, so it's in your best interest to avoid conflict whenever possible, but as you gain access to weapons you can choose to sneak up on other NPCs to knock huge chunks of their health out with a stealth attack, or else shoot them from a distance. Given that this is a survival simulator with a fairly grim, realistic theme, that should never be your first instinct, especially since not everyone you encounter is openly hostile. Sometimes you're dealing with armed bandits and soldiers who will likely attack you on sight; other times you're dealing with other survivors who're just trying to grab enough of what they need to survive; sometimes it's innocent bystanders, or people in need of help. Some locations aren't even exactly meant to be scavenged, but rather serve as trading hubs. The hospital, for instance, is still in operation, so although you can go there to get wounds and illnesses tended to by the staff, you'll be in deep trouble if you get caught trying to steal anything.

Thank you, kind stranger, for not shooting me in the face.

The whole game plays out in a series of alternating day and night phases; crafting and upgrading your shelter by day, scavenging and exploring the city by night. All of this plays out in modified real time, with a timer constantly ticking the minutes away, leaving you with but a limited amount of time in each phase to do what you want to do. Most activities take a certain amount of time to complete, such as an hour to build a bed, or four hours to collect rain water. Clearing a huge pile of rubble takes 2-4 hours by hand, but only a quarter that time if you use a shovel. If you're sneaking around a supermarket that's being patrolled by armed bandits, you'll have to move more slowly and wait in hiding places for paths to clear, which takes more time. If you haven't gotten out of any location by sunrise, then that character won't be available during the day phase and could possibly run into trouble trying to get back to the shelter off-screen. The timed nature of the gameplay can be pretty tense while scavenging during the night phase, and I like that it adds kind of a real-time strategy vibe to the day phase.

The structured day and night phases creates a pretty engaging rhythm where you're always compelled to keep playing "just one more phase" or "just one more day" because there's always a little something extra you have to do. During the day phase you take stock of what you have and work on building things, and realize that if you can get a little more wood or a few more electrical components then you can make that critical upgrade or appliance you've been eyeing, and so you go out at night looking for those supplies, and when you get back the next morning you immediately want to put them to use building more stuff. Meanwhile, random events pop up sporadically to pull your attention elsewhere, like when a character gets sick suddenly and you have to find some medicine, or when your shelter gets raided in the middle of the night and you lose the food you were planning to eat the next day. There's always something going on demanding your attention, and the game's methodical pacing and constant ticking-clock makes it hard to put down. That is, except for when there's nothing going on and nothing to do.

Day 10 and everyone's starting to lose hope.

The day phase, for instance, can really drag at times, leaving you to sit around twiddling your thumbs while you wait for your characters to rest, wait to see if anyone will show up at your door, wait for tasks to complete so you can move onto the next thing, wait to see if your animal traps will catch anything, or wait until later in the afternoon to put fresh fuel in the heater so it doesn't burn out in the middle of the night. There's an option to skip through the rest of the day phase, thus going straight to the night phase, but that's not a viable option if you still have things to do later in the day. Sometimes there's absolutely nothing to do in the day phase because you just don't have the resources to do anything, which isn't so bad because you just skip right through it, but towards the end of a successful run you may find that you've set your shelter up well enough that you don't even need to bother going out to scavenge anymore, which can make the last quarter of the game incredibly boring as you basically just sit around automatically producing everything you need and waiting for the game to end.

Even the night phase -- the main part of the game with any sort of active gameplay -- can suffer from this sense of boring tedium sometimes. As previously mentioned, you may reach a point when there's no longer any need to go out scavenging, but at other times you may find that your choices of where to go have been drastically reduced due to fighting or snowy conditions, leaving you with just a handful of locations that you've already exhausted, or that don't have what you need. Sometimes you'll go to a location and clear it of all hostile threats, and then have to spend several nights slowly hauling everything back to your shelter, little by little, because your inventory space is so limited and you have no way to increase inventory space (ie, by crafting a bigger backpack or something). And when you need dozens of resources at a time for a single crafting upgrade, it can feel like too much of a grind repeatedly going back and forth between the same locations just to bring back a mere fraction of what you need each trip.

A desolate stretch the city, in the middle of winter.

Despite all of the randomized elements and the possibilities to play as different characters in different scenarios, I felt like there was limited replay value because you're essentially going through the same motions every time you play. The "upgrade tree," for instance, doesn't change from game to game, meaning you'll always start in the same place and have to work your way up to the same end-game goals each time. Every time you play, you'll likely go through the same steps based on priorities -- beds and a stove are much more important early on than, say, a comfy armchair or a heater, and making sure your shelter is safe and secure is more important than being able to grow your own vegetables -- especially once you find a system that works. Meanwhile you'll be exploring many of the exact same locations and experiencing some of the exact same events, with slight variations in the distribution of items. Once you "solve" the general strategy, you're basically just rolling the dice and seeing how easy or hard this particular run is going to be.

There's no tutorial whatsoever, and that makes the game especially difficult in the beginning. I suppose it's thematic, since your characters wouldn't have all the answers and wouldn't understand how their actions might affect things down the road and would be confused by a lot of different things, but this opaque uncertainty only works, thematically, on the first playthrough -- after that, you have the meta knowledge of how the game works and what to expect up ahead, and then it stops feeling like a "realistic war survival simulator" and more like another typical video game. Meanwhile, it turns your first playthrough into a trial-and-error, "trial-by-fire" kind of scenario where you bumble around confused by almost everything, wondering which upgrades are more important, which tools are more useful, what order you should be doing things, how scavenging, trading, and combat works, and so on, pretty much guaranteeing that you're going to do horribly and be miserable in your first run of the game. After 16 days of my first run, having lost multiple characters while trying to figure out how stealth and combat work, and having my shelter constantly raided in the middle of the night causing me to lose critical supplies and getting my remaining survivors seriously wounded in the process, I literally gave up and decided to skip forward until my group eventually died, just so I could start over and try again with a better understanding of the game.

Beating a shotgun-wielding bandit with a shovel. I know he's a bad man because he so blatantly talks about "getting rid of" the priest. 

And if the lack of tutorial is indeed intended to be thematic, then it actually breaks thematic immersion when you try to do something and struggle to figure out the user interface, like when you try to sneak up on an armed bandit, hoping to slit their throat with a knife, and then bump into them and get shot multiple times while standing around like an idiot doing absolutely nothing, because you didn't realize you had to be in "combat mode" to attack someone, and that clicking on them in "scavenging mode" will do absolutely nothing. Even once you understand the mechanics of combat, it still feels clunky and awkward. Granted, this is a point-and-click survival-simulator, not an action game, and sure, you're supposed to be ordinary civilians untrained in combat techniques and weapons usage, so it's not going to be anything too involved, fancy, or elaborate, but it's literally point-and-click RNG. Different weapons, different characters, and different statuses on those characters determine how effective each attack will be, but you literally just click on the target a few times and see what happens, based on random results.

Ironically, the game's biggest draw, and why most people recommend it so much -- its theme -- is probably what bugs me most about This War of Mine. To me, the war theme did not come across very strongly. I didn't feel like I was trapped in a war zone, largely because I never saw or encountered any actual signs of the war, apart from ruined buildings and needing to scavenge for food and medicine, which could've been the result of any type of apocalyptic event. You could just as easily pretend that you're trying to survive a zombie apocalypse, a nuclear winter, a meteor strike, an alien invasion -- practically anything. Otherwise, the only things that actually suggested war to me were the game's title, occasionally being unable to go to certain locations because of "fighting," a few things said on the radio, and a few sentences written in my characters' backstories.

Similar to real life, you experience the war indirectly; you hear about it more than you actually see or feel it.

I also felt no attachment to any of the characters, because they didn't feel like real people to me. All you get is a few sentences of backstory briefly explaining who they were before the war and how they came to be trapped in the city, and then they simply become pawns for you to order around, no more deep or human than generic worker units in an RTS. They hardly talk or interact with each other (or other NPCs), and when they do, it's either implied off-screen or heavily simplified, almost abstracted. If a character is depressed, for instance, you can have someone talk to them to try to improve their mood, but this amounts to literally just "We can't give up, we have to stay strong" and other such cliche nonsense. Each character has a little biography that updates with diary entries as the game progresses, but most of the time these are just them restating the facts of events that have happened to them, like "I'm glad we could help that man," or "We really need food!" Every week or so, you get entries marked "My Story" which give you a few more sentences of backstory, usually some type of flashback depicting highlights of their life before (or at the start of) the war, but to me this is too little, too late. They feel more like symbolic representations of characters than actual characters.

Any story or characterization that you can glean from this game is going to be stuff you make up yourself, because there is no story. Really, this game is just a bunch of gameplay mechanisms glued together with the (loose) theme of civilians caught in a war. To its credit, there's plenty of room for emergent narratives based on how you, personally, would perceive and describe the series of events happening to your characters -- I've read synopses of people's playthroughs on forums that make all the little things happening to their characters (like running out of coffee, or sending someone to help the neighbors board up their windows) sound really fascinating -- but again, that falls on the player to make something out of those building blocks. If you're an empathetic person who can put yourself in these characters' shoes and imagine what they're feeling (keyword being "imagine," since they sure don't show it), then I could see you being rather engrossed and engaged by the "story." But if you're someone like me who's more practical and who looks at things from a more mechanical, logical perspective, you may not be so emotionally moved.

A brief look into Emilia's backstory.

Wherever you fall on the "logic vs feeling" spectrum, you may find some satisfaction in the variety of moral decisions you have to make in this game. Sometimes these decisions are forced upon you in a more overt manner, such as when someone shows up at your door during the day saying their friend got shot by a sniper and is in dire need of bandages, or when children show up begging for food. In those types of instances, you're placed on the spot: do you part with precious goods you need to survive because someone else possibly needs them more, or hold on to them and take care of yourself before helping others? Other decisions are less structured, and are ones you make of your own initiative; when you see a young woman being attacked by a soldier in the supermarket, do you risk your own life trying to save her, or stay out of it? When someone in your group is deathly ill, do you resort to stealing medicine from the elderly couple that live by themselves?

For me, the decision was pretty obvious in most cases: I have bandages that I could give you, but I also have someone in my group who's critically wounded and so I can't afford to part with them; I have enough food to last a while and I can produce more, so I can easily part with some; I have no weapons and therefore have no safe way of taking that soldier down, so I'm not going to interfere; I need medicine and I'm willing to steal it from an old couple because this is just a video game and I'm probably never going to see or experience any kind of consequence for doing so. In that last instance, one of my characters became sad, thinking "what has the world come to that we have to steal to survive," but I personally felt no remorse because to me it was just a matter of using built-in game mechanics (a stealth system) to complete an objective. Maybe that says more about how desensitized I am to the plights of fictional video game characters, but I found it really difficult to care, especially in that instance, since that couple serves no other purpose in the gameplay or story -- even if you show up peacefully looking to talk or trade with them, there's no way to interact with them, except to steal from them. They don't exist as actual characters within this game's world; they exist purely as a moral dilemma, a symbol of the game's overarching theme.

Just a few more days, Katia, then you can buy all the houses you want.

This doesn't seem like the type of game you play because it's such a great game, but rather because of the ideas it's exploring and the message it's trying to send. It feels like a game whose primary intention is to be Important, with a secondary goal of also being a Good Game. I think everyone was primed to praise and recommend it simply because of its unique take on war, which we rarely, if ever, have seen in a video game, depicting the actual harsh realities of war in a much darker and more serious light. It's the type of game you literally can't criticize because it has such good intentions and its message is (or at least, can be) so powerful; to offer negative criticism of This War of Mine would be akin to saying that Schindler's List is a bad movie and telling people not to watch it. And yet, after years of hype and praise creating such high expectations, the game falls a little flat for me.

It's a fairly run-of-the-mill survival-simulator with a decently satisfying crafting system, but the gameplay doesn't do a whole lot to make it stand apart from the huge wealth of similar roguelite survival-simulators saturating the market. The game's unique theme is supposed to be what makes it stand out from the crowd, and indeed there are some good things going on with the theme, but it feels like a wasted opportunity to do more with it, because I felt like I barely noticed it at all. I never felt like I was in a war, and most of the stress and struggle stemmed from being in a typical survival-simulator where you never have enough of what you need to do what you want. After a horrendously miserable and frustrating first run in which I basically gave up, and an overwhelmingly successful second run which felt much too easy down the stretch, I got bored during my third run, even though it seemed to be going well, and decided to quit partway through it. I felt like I'd already seen the majority of everything I was encountering, and it really felt like I was just going through the exact same motions (with slight variations) for the third time in a row, starting from scratch every time.

Most importantly, I just wasn't having fun. And I don't mean that in the "omg it's so stressful and intense" kind of way, where you'd expect me to follow up with "while I didn't enjoy playing it, I'm glad I did," or "I didn't like it, but I do appreciate it." I'm not going to be that apologetic. I just did not like it. Not so much for me to warrant my usual "[Game Title] Sucks" headline, but definitely in a way where I felt disappointed and letdown by the hype and expectations. Granted, I don't generally care for these types of games anyway (I don't really see the appeal of survival-simulators) so maybe you should take these conclusions with a grain of salt, but I can't recommend This War of Mine for the execution of its gameplay or the application of its theme. Maybe if you really like survival-simulators, or if you absolutely have to see for yourself what the fuss is/was all about, then This War of Mine could be worth checking out. You just might want to temper your expectations a bit.

What I'm Playing: Elex

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Regular readers may know, by this point, that I have a fondness for Piranha Bytes, the small German studio responsible for the Gothic and Risen series, with Gothic and Gothic 2 (released back in 2001 and 2003, respectively) being two of my favorite games of all time. Sadly, none of their other games have ever lived up to the legacy of Gothic and Gothic 2, with each new release being a case of "one step forward, two steps backward." Though I've enjoyed each and every subsequent game from Piranha Bytes, each one was marred by some critical design or technical problem that made them feel like definitively inferior games, and therefore tough to recommend to anyone but die-hard fans. Their latest game, Elex (released two weeks ago), is without a doubt head and shoulders above anything they've released recently. I've been so enamored by it that I've poured nearly 100 hours into it over the past two weeks en route to finishing a single playthrough.

I could write a full review on it at this point, but I want to save that until I've spent more time in a second playthrough trying different things to see how gameplay changes depending on your faction choice, and how much of an impact certain decisions actually have on the outcome of the story and gameplay progression. I feel confident enough that I could make some pretty reasonable deductions without needing to replay it, but really, I just enjoyed the game so much that I want to run through it again with a different playstyle. So, that's what I'll be doing. I also have a few other articles lined up, that I'm thinking of writing, detailing more direct comparisons to other games in the genre (ie, how it stacks up to Gothic 2, The Witcher 3, Skyrim, etc), so while I'm brainstorming all of that I just wanted to drop a quick update about what I'm up to. Stay tuned for more in the coming weeks. 

Beginner's Guide to Elex: Tips and Advice

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Helping you get the most enjoyment out of Elex's sometimes rough and daunting beginning.

Elex is a third-person open-world action-RPG from Piranha Bytes, a small German studio, that blends traditional fantasy, science fiction, and post-apocalypse themes. Set on a world 200 years after a comet wipes out nearly all life on the planet, the survivors have split into three factions that use elex, a mysterious substance that appeared with the comet, in their own unique way to fulfill their own goals and agendas. You can be a Dungeons & Dragons-style berserker who wields swords and casts fireballs, or a Mass Effect-style cleric who uses plasma rifles and psionic mind control, or a Mad Max-style outlaw who makes their own gear from scrap and enhances their abilities with powerful stims. It's got a huge world full of diverse environments, tons of quests, lasting consequences for decisions you make, and three different factions you can join, all of which radically alter your gameplay experience by offering unique equipment and skills.

It's surprisingly good, but like other Piranha Bytes games, it has a lot of quirks and idiosyncrasies that can make it difficult for unseasoned initiates to figure out how the game actually works, what you should be doing, and so on, combined with a really steep difficulty curve that makes no effort to hold your hand. For many players, this can lead to a lot of confusion and frustration right at the start of the game, which is never a good thing, obviously, but is especially unfortunate because Elex offers an extremely compelling, rich, and rewarding experience for those who can get into it. As a long-time Piranha Bytes veteran, I still struggled with a few things in my first playthrough, and had some of my expectations subverted when I realized, dozens of hours into it, that I wished I had done things a little differently.

The purpose of this article, therefore, is to help new (or prospective) players with general tips and advice about how the game works and what you should expect, with a few basic, spoiler-free strategies to facilitate a better gameplay experience. A large part of the fun in these games is the satisfaction and reward that comes from exploring the world and discovering things on your own, so I won't be going into specific detail about "go here and get this item, then do this quest as soon as possible, build your character exactly like this, etc," because I want to leave you that room to figure things out for yourself. But some things are tough to figure out without doing a lot of trial-and-error and seeing how things pan out over the course of a 50-100 hour playthrough. So, here are some of my thoughts and observations after pouring 120 hours (and counting) into multiple playthroughs, which I think should be helpful to other new players.


Elex has a very steep difficulty curve. It is intentional.

You will die a lot in this game. Most enemies will be too strong for you to even think about fighting in the beginning. Lots of enemies will kill you in only one or two hits. Some quests that you pick up early on will be basically impossible to complete until much later because of the enemies they expect you to face. This is an intentional aspect of the game's balancing and ecosystem; you're meant to start out feeling incredibly weak and helpless so that as you level up and get stronger, you actually feel like you're getting stronger. You're supposed to feel yourself working your way up the food chain, so to speak, and it's meant to be satisfying when you come back to kill enemies that were giving you a tough time in the beginning. It's also part of making the world feel dangerous and hostile, which adds tension to exploration and quests because you never know what dangerous threats lie in wait and which NPCs could betray you and kick your ass at any time. So if you feel like you're struggling a lot in the beginning and can't kill anything, don't get discouraged; that's how it's supposed to be.



Avoid combat early on; level up by completing quests.

With the game's steep difficulty curve in mind, you need to accept the fact that you won't be a badass killing machine at the start of the game, and therefore need to pick your battles. In the beginning, this means avoiding combat basically whenever possible, because you're too weak to fight anything but the absolute weakest variants of the weakest enemies in the game. Even these ones can pose a serious threat, and the reward you get for killing enemies really isn't worth the time, effort, or risk of killing them. A typical enemy that you stand a reasonable chance of killing may only give you 10 experience and net you a single piece of raw meat. This pales in comparison to the hundreds of experience and shards (the game's currency) you can earn by doing a single quest within the safe confines of the first town, Goliet. Duras, the first NPC you meet on your way down from the radio tower, will escort you there; follow him, and do as many quests in town as you can. If a quest tells you to fight a tough enemy, save it for later. If a quest sends you into dangerous territory, try to complete the objective while avoiding the enemies. Basically, don't even bother trying to fight until you've leveled up several times and have put significant upgrades into your equipment and abilities.


Get a companion as soon as possible. 

One of the quickest and easiest ways to mitigate the game's tough difficulty curve is to get an NPC companion who will follow you on your adventures. They each have their own quests associated with them, interject in conversations, and react to the way you behave in the game, but their main function early on is that they're all decently competent fighters who can tank hits for you and dish out a lot more damage than you're capable of, making difficult fights much more manageable. Duras, the first NPC, can become a companion if you work on the quest associated with him. You can also find CRONY U4, one of your combat drones who became separated from you when your raider crashes in the opening cutscene, somewhere in Goliet, though he's a little harder to find. In each case you'll have to trek long distances across the map through dangerous territory to advance the quest, but you don't actually have to fight anything, especially with Duras's quest, so keep the above point in mind about avoiding combat and just focus on getting to your destination and completing the objectives.



Make sure target lock-on is set to manual.

On normal and easy modes, when you approach an enemy the game will automatically lock on to the target, which focuses the camera on them and alters your movement patterns so that you stay facing that enemy at all times. While this can help keep your eye on the target and ensure your attacks are more likely to hit, it's extremely problematic when facing multiple enemies. First of all, it hampers your mobility because your movement speed gets lowered slightly, and you lose the ability to sprint, or turn and run. Plus, it just becomes awkward trying to weave in and out of enemy attacks and switching target locks. With it set to manual, you can choose when you lock on to enemies, instead of being forced to. You may still want to use the lock-on feature against single targets, but against groups you're generally better playing unlocked; it just improves the feeling of movement and gives you a little more control of your positioning and what you're attacking for virtually no downside, as long as you're capable of adjusting your facing and the camera orientation when you attack.


Time your attacks to take advantage of the combo system.

When you attack, a blue meter in the bottom left of the screen progressively fills up; this represents your combo meter, which on all difficulties except for easy, requires you to time your attacks just right to build the meter faster. After it crosses the light blue line in the middle, you can execute a special attack, which does extra damage. If you click too quickly, then the bar stops filling prematurely, and you'll likely run out of stamina way before reaching the special attack point; if you click too slowly, then you'll stop attacking for a brief moment and have to restart the attack animations. You want to time your attacks so that you click immediately (or very shortly) after each attack connects, which you can gauge by the sound effect, or just by watching the meter fill up and clicking right before it reaches the full threshold of each attack. You also need to monitor your stamina, since each attack, dodge, parry, and block will consume stamina, and you can't perform any actions except basic movement when your stamina is depleted. You need to pick your moments to attack, ideally attacking in moments when you have enough stamina and a clean opening to execute a full combo on the enemy.



Put a skill point into stamina.

At the start of the game you have just barely enough stamina to execute a full attack combo, if you start from full, but doing so leaves you completely drained afterward and therefore unable to dodge, block, or parry possible counter-attacks from enemies. With a single skill point invested into stamina, you can boost your total high enough to leave you with a little bit after a full combo, which gives you a lot more flexibility and control over your options in a fight. You don't really need this skill to get by with melee combat, but if you find yourself struggling or want to focus more heavily on playing a melee build, then you should consider investing in it. 


Attributes don't give the benefits they suggest.

Each attribute gives a brief description of its function in the game. For example, strength says it increases melee damage, and constitution it says it increases your health. This makes it sound like each point you put into these attributes will also improve your melee damage or health by a small amount. That is simply not the case. People have tested this, and if there is any increase it's so minuscule as to have no practical benefit. For that reason, you should treat the attribute points as simply requirements necessary to equip better gear and to learn new abilities, and therefore don't have to push your attributes any further than the minimum necessary for your next upgrade.



Attribute costs increase as your attributes increase.

At the start of the game, it costs one attribute point to increase an attribute by one, in other words, you increase your attributes at a one-to-one ratio. Once an attribute hits 31, it starts costing two points to increase the attribute by one, a two-to-one ratio. At 61, it starts costing five points, a five-to-one ratio. At 91, it starts costing ten points, a ten-to-one ratio. This is easy enough to discover on your own, but I want to warn you in advance, because it's easy to fall into the trap of thinking "I just need 20 more attribute points to learn this new skill, which means I can learn it in two levels," when in actuality you're looking at three or four levels because you didn't realize the costs would increase. 


You can increase attributes and skills with jewelry, but...

Rings and amulets (and even sunglasses) can give you a lot of good benefits, like increasing your attributes or allowing you to use or benefit from certain skills (like +1 lockpicking, or highlighting items in the environment) as long as you have them equipped. These can be extremely useful, especially if equipping a ring or amulet will give you enough of an attribute boost to equip a new weapon, but these attribute boosts do not apply when learning new skills at a trainer. If your base dexterity is at 30 and you've improved it to 35 with a ring, a trainer's skill window might show that you have the 35 of 35 necessary dexterity to learn a new skill, but when you click on the skill, you won't actually be able to learn it, and the game won't tell you why. This is because learning skills requires your base attributes to meet the requirements, meaning you have to get your natural dexterity to 35, without the aid of rings or amulets, to learn that skill. You can still use those extra attribute points to equip weapons and armor, but not to learn skills.


Join a faction sooner rather than later.

Don't be afraid to join a faction relatively early in the game because you think you'll miss out on other factions' quests. Although there are many quests that you can do in each faction before joining them, only the faction leader's official membership quest will be canceled if you join another faction, first; every other faction quest will still be available to you, later, even if you've already joined another faction. I'd still advise visiting all of the factions and checking out their skills before making a decision (don't just rush into it), but the faction armor and abilities give you a pretty big boost early in the game, which means the sooner you join a faction the sooner you can get into enjoying all of their benefits and having a somewhat easier time with the game's tough difficulty curve. If you wait to join a faction until you've already done everything else, then you'll just be unnecessarily handicapping yourself and missing out on the fun, unique faction stuff.



Periodically advance the main quest; don't put it off.

Likewise, don't put off advancing the main quest until the very end of the game. You can continue playing after you complete the main quest (though how it resolves will have consequences for how different NPCs and factions treat you), so you don't have to save it for last. But really, the reason I say you should advance the main quest is because a lot of the objectives send you out to explore wide swaths of the world map, and a lot of these objectives can be completed or discovered long before you pick up the quest to actually do them, which I feel has a negative effect on the pacing and impact of the story when you meet an important NPC, and they tell you to go do a whole bunch of stuff, and you tell him then and there that you've already done all of it, because there's no build up for the next section of the plot. So, since you're going to be exploring all these areas, anyway, you may as well have the actual quest for them active so that you discover things when the main quest expects you to, rather than basically spoiling the plot for yourself.


Understand how the "Cold" meter works.

Based on how you act in dialogue and how you choose to solve certain quests, you'll see "Cold increased" or "Cold decreased" messages appear on screen. "Coldness" represents Jax's stunted emotions as the result of his heavy use of elex as an Alb commander. Your coldness level begins at "neutral," after most of the elex has waned from Jax's system following the failed execution at the start of the game, and decreases as you choose more emotional responses, or increases as you choose more cold-hearted, machine-like responses. It's not a morality system, and it's neither good nor bad. Getting mad at someone and yelling at them is an emotional response that will decrease your cold level, but obviously may not be the best course of action in a situation; while cold responses may be dispassionate to the human condition of others around you, they tend to be guided by reason and logic, and therefore could make a lot of sense. It's mainly a tool that allows you to role-play as Jax, but it also affects your relationships with companions, and is the primary factor in deciding which ending you get, based on what your net coldness level is at the end of the game.



You have a jetpack; use it.

Elex has an extremely varied topography with a lot of hills, mountains, ravines, canyons, and so on, meaning a lot of areas are hidden out of view by being on a completely different plane from the one you're standing on. The jetpack, which you gain in the starting area and remains with you for the entire game, gives you a ton of freedom to explore vertically. You can find a lot of useful items, cool hidden areas, and fun easter eggs by descending into obscure low points or flying on top of things that you would never be able to reach in other games. You can even use it in combat; with ranged weapons, you can hover in mid-air and fire down on opponents, and with the jetpack attack skill you can do a devastating plunging attack on enemies with your melee weapon. It can also be useful for evading attacks and getting out of a tough spot when you run out of stamina, but be careful because many enemies have ranged attacks and will try to shoot you down if you spend too much time in the air or get too far away from them.



Consider exploring at night.

Nighttime is not nearly as dark as it used to be in the early Gothic games, and it actually comes with a few benefits. A lot of beasts and monsters will go to sleep at night, which can make it easier to sneak past them or avoid them if you're trying to complete quests in dangerous territory, and the rare plants like golden whisper glow very brightly at night, making them much easier to spot at a distance. 


Plan to learn (and use) crafting skills.

Modify weapons, chemistry, and each faction's unique weapon enhancement skill, all give a huge benefit and should be learned by every character build. Chemistry lets you brew your own potions from the plethora of plants that you find out in the wild, but more importantly, it gives you access to permanent stat upgrade potions, which can give you a ton of free boosts for a minor skill investment. Modify weapons lets you upgrade your weaponry, which is by far the most reliable way to improve your damage output; it's faster and easier to improve a weapon you're already using than to hope you can find something better, and weapons that you upgrade to max often perform as good or better than legendaries that you can find in exploration. Each faction also gets an ability to add extra damage types to their weapons (fire, energy, radiation, etc), which act as damage-over-time in addition to the weapon's base damage, further enhancing your weapon's total damage output, which can only be done with that skill unless you luck out and find something good that already has a damage effect on it. Goldsmith is a little less important, but lets you craft jewelry that will often be stronger than what you can find normally. Gem socketing is even less important because not all weapons will have gem sockets on them and you generally don't find enough gems to get a big enough boost.


Pick up everything you find.

This might seem like obvious advice, but I feel like it's worth pointing out: you have no inventory restrictions, so you can (and should) pick up everything you find, because everything in the game has some sort of value. Most items can be sold to merchants for extra money, and since money is hard to come by and a lot of things are really expensive, you'll need all the money you can get. Plus, you never know when a particular item might come in handy.



Junk items have no use; sell them.

Mugs, forks, cigarettes, toilet paper -- basically everything that appears in your "other" tab of the items screen is completely useless except to sell to vendors, with one exception: old coins can be used to buy food and drinks in vending machines at the clerics' headquarters. There's not a single NPC who will ask for a few packs of cigarettes, or a dozens rolls of toilet paper, to complete a quest. These things only exist to populate the world with "stuff" and to give you things to sell to vendors for extra cash. This also applies to items in the "other" tab marked "valuables" like chalices and caskets. Hold on to any old coins you find, because you may actually want to use them at some point, but sell literally everything else in this tab. 


Learn the "animal trophies" skill as soon as possible.

As previously mentioned, you'll be needing a lot of money in this game, and it's often in short supply because you have to spend so much of it learning new abilities, buying armor, and upgrading your weapons. The "animal trophies" skill is one of the best ways to earn money, because it grants you extra rewards like claws, teeth, pelts, and so on, which can be sold to merchants for money and/or used in crafting, for every animal, monster, and mutant that you kill. The earlier you get this skill, the more animal trophies you can accrue over the course of the game, meaning more money in your pockets. You can go for the second level of this ability right away, if you desire, since it'll grant you even more trophies over the course of the game, but you should definitely get at least the first skill level. Hold on to a small supply of each trophy type (say, 20-30), because you'll want to have some available for crafting, and then sell the excess. 



Personality skills aren't really worth it.

Most of the skills in the "personality" tab are about boosting skill checks in dialogue and giving you other such social rewards for how you interact with the world. Most of these skills are, generally, not worth it. You'll see a lot of skill checks in dialogue early on, when they're either low enough for you to meet without needing the extra boosts, or so high that you'll never meet in time, in which case the personality skills don't really help. Worse yet, these opportunities become pretty rare in the second half of the game. The skills that grant extra attributes are kind of nice, but you can achieve the same effect through standard elex potions. The skills that grant extra experience points also seem nice, but this amounts to a meager 5% -- against most enemies that means an extra one or five points. The skills that reward you for your coldness level are kind of nice, but are situational depending on your build and playstyle, and sort of force you to meta-game your role-playing so that you stay within a specific range. A few of the skills in this tab can be useful, of course, but you should be prioritizing other skills first.

Things Gothic 1 and 2 (Still) Do Better Than Elex

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Piranha Bytes have been making open-world action-RPGs for nearly 20 years, starting with the first Gothic in 2001, and now with their most recent game, Elex, released a few weeks ago. All of their games (including the Risen series, released between Gothic and Elex) follow the same general formula with the same components; a big open world full of really tough enemies, where you have to explore, complete quests, and learn new skills to work your way up the food chain so that you can survive and complete the main quest. They've basically been making the same game for almost two decades, with a fresh coat of paint and a handful of tweaks and twists each time, and yet their newer games have never quite reached the level of success that the original Gothic games achieved, in terms of their gameplay design and execution.

Elex is a surprisingly strong effort that I'd say is almost as good as Gothic 2. It has a lot more modern polish, including much more accessible controls, and an actual tutorial to teach you how to play the game (but that's to be expected in this day and age), plus a much bigger world that still contains Piranha Bytes' signature detailed density, and improved quest design that gives you more options and more consequences for how you choose to resolve quests. It's actually better than Gothic and Gothic 2 in a lot of ways, and yet, surprisingly, there's a lot of good stuff about Gothic and Gothic 2 that have somehow never made it into subsequent Piranha Bytes games, and which are sorely missing in Elex. They had a pretty solid formula with those early games, and so it's weird, disappointing, and somewhat frustrating that, about 15 years later, some of the things that made Gothic and Gothic 2 so great still haven't found their way into Piranha Bytes' newer games.

My intention with this article is not to disparage Elex, because it really exceeded my expectations, even though it's still a little rough around the edges, in some ways. Rather, I want to celebrate Gothic and Gothic 2, and also use this as an opportunity to remind Piranha Bytes (if they're reading this) of some things that were great in those games, that really need to make a return in Elex 2



A smaller, more intimate world

This is a subjective point, but I felt like the size of the world in Gothic and Gothic 2 was nearly perfect, offering a large enough space to give you a strong sense of freedom as you explored fairly open, unrestricted maps, while never overwhelming you with their size or scale. Everything felt tightly focused and incredibly dense, with no wasted space. Everywhere you looked had something interesting, and you never had to waste time traversing large, empty spaces just to get somewhere. It was a world so finely crafted, with such precise and specific detail, that NPCs could describe a location verbally and you could actually find it just by following their directions and looking around a little bit. And since the worlds were centrally focused around a few hub areas and their surroundings, you were frequently traversing the paths between major locations and building an intimate familiarity with every rock and tree that you passed.

The main map of Gothic 2, with user-added labels for major locations.

Elex, much like Gothic 3, seems to have fallen into the trap of thinking "bigger is automatically better" when it comes to world design. While a bigger world can certainly have its benefits, the world in Elex almost borders on being too big and unmanageable. This is no more evident than in quests, which practically necessitate the use of map markers to tell you where to go because there just isn't enough organized structure to find your next objective without them. The world is designed to be so big and spread out that you see a lot of areas once and then move on, never to see them again; you don't become as familiar with the map, including its layout or its content, especially since it's so easy to fall into autopilot following markers on your radar. It also has the effect of spreading the notable loot out so much that you spend a lot more time looting larger quantities of junk items, because there's not as much unique, interesting loot to fill the space.



New side-quests and changes as chapters progressed

Most of Piranha Bytes' games follow a chapter progression system for its main quest, with each chapter revolving around completing some major step towards your ultimate goal. In Gothic, this simply meant that new enemies would spawn across the world to make it feel more alive, but Gothic 2 took this concept and expanded upon it further by adding new side-quests and changing familiar areas more dramatically as the chapters progressed. Once you returned to Khorinis in chapter three, after visiting the Valley of Mines in chapter two, you suddenly had a new threat scattered across the map with seeker mages trying to hunt you down; then, in chapter five, after defeating the dragons, orcs and lizardmen invaded Khorinis and you had new quests to help different people deal with these new problems. Additionally, the progression of the main quest also unlocked whole new areas of the game that were previously restricted, giving you constant access to new twists and turns as you advanced the main story and went into new chapters.

Reaching chapter 2 in Elex.

Elex, much like Risen 3, front-loads its content, making nearly all of it available from the very start of the game. You can actually complete end-game main-quest objectives several chapters before you're even tasked with them, and you can see and complete perhaps 80% (or more?) of what the game has to offer in the very first chapter. If you do everything at the start, you'll spend about half of the remaining main quests telling people "I've already done" and only get a handful of new quests that actually introduce new content, or that weren't available in chapter one, and some of those are just reiterations of things you've already done previously. The game world shows a lot of dynamic elements, with entire towns being slaughtered or entire factions turning against you, among many smaller things, depending on your choices, but it's kind of disappointing that the game world doesn't change as a direct result of the main quest, as you advance it through chapters -- at least, not until the very end when you've actually completed it -- and that there isn't a lot of extra content tucked away to be discovered in the second half of the game.



The inclusion of "dungeons"

Another way that the early Gothic games helped to spice up gameplay with extra content and challenges, as you progressed, was to sprinkle "dungeons" into the mix. These were self-contained "levels" or "stages," kind of like the dungeons in a Zelda game, where you had to go into a more linearly-structured environment to solve a series of puzzles and challenges to advance to the end so that you could complete some objective. Things like exploring the Old Mine and its labyrinthine tunnels searching for a cog to repair the gate so you could access the minecrawlers' lair and kill the queen, or the Temple of the Sleeper where you had to activate switches in a certain order and unlock different areas to do other things so that you could reach the final boss. These were all loaded as separate maps, so there was a strong feeling like you were entering into a different place, and they were all fleshed-out with major gameplay sequences that tied directly into the main story. They were pretty cool, and added a lot of tension and excitement as you worked your way deeper and deeper into their sinister depths.

Puzzles and switches galore in this temple from Gothic 1.

The closest thing we have in Elex is the converters -- huge mining lasers that the bad guys use to harvest elex from the planet -- but these are basically just a series of rooms where you kill a few enemies, loot some items, and ride an elevator up to the next floor, repeating the process a few times until you reach the top and press a button to deactivate the converter. No puzzle-solving, no exploration, nothing out of the ordinary, and the whole process gets repeated five times. Then, when you reach the Ice Palace to confront the final boss, it's just a series of empty hallways leading up to the boss chamber. Except for maybe the old Infinite Skies headquarters, you spend the entire game in the vast open world wandering from place to place, never really going into anywhere with structured progression, exploration, and gameplay. That gets kind of mundane and repetitive after a while, so it would've been cool to have some of these types of "dungeons" in the game, instead of the boring converters or in place of the empty Ice Palace.



Dynamically upgrading attack animations

In all of Piranha Bytes' games you start out as a pathetic weakling who can barely defend himself before rising to near-demigod status by the end. Besides just representing this with stats, they also demonstrated this with how your character handled his weapons. In Gothic and Gothic 2, the nameless hero started the game holding his weapons awkwardly and striking ineffectively, until you spent some skill points on sword training, at which point the animation changed to reflect your character's newfound knowledge and ability, and then changed again if you improved your proficiency even further. The combat system changed over the course of the game; instead of simply doing more damage, you also attacked more fluidly, quickly, and aggressively, and so it felt like you, as a player, became more proficient with the combat as your character did. Although the basic tactics and inputs for combat remained virtually the same from beginning to end, the overall feeling improved tremendously, and it was just cool to reach a new skill threshold and see your animations change to reflect that.

Fighting a Runt Biter in Elex

In Elex, your combat animations remain the same from beginning to end; investing skill points in melee combat only increases your damage and your chance to stagger enemies with each hit. All of the game's combat moves, from roll-dodging to parrying counter-attacks to special combo attacks, are available to you from the start of the game, except for the plunging jet pack attack. So, in a game with 50-100 hours of content, combat is going to feel pretty much the same the entire time, because once you get the hang of the combat you just repeat the same tactics for every fight. The only variety comes from switching weapon types, since different types of melee weapons (swords, axes, clubs, etc) have different attack animations and special attacks, but that's not the same as feeling like you're making progress in a dynamically evolving combat system. Some of the faction abilities can have a cool positive effect on the combat, but I really miss the upgrading attack animations from Gothic and Gothic 2, just because it was so unique.



Better balance of stats, skills, equipment, and personal skill

Gothic and Gothic 2 had pretty simple skill systems, consisting really of only three main stats to increase and a handful of skills to choose from, but the way it balanced with your equipment progression and personal skill was really solid. Every little point you put into something had a noticeable effect on your progression; upgrading your weapon proficiency could unlock new attack animations, and it also increased your chances of scoring critical hits, which did huge chunks of damage; improving your strength might give you enough to equip a better weapon, which would do more damage on its own, but even if it didn't give you enough, the extra strength still applied directly to your damage output. Investing your skill points had a tremendous impact on your character's viability in combat, but it was also possible, with pure skill -- understanding how the combat works, enemy tendencies, tactics, and having quick reactions -- to kill most enemies at level one if you were good enough (and patient). Personal skill was no substitute for better stats, but you still needed skill with the system to do well, otherwise you'd get wrecked, even with good stats -- you needed both.

The stats and skills screen in Gothic 2.

Elex strips this system down significantly, linking your damage output almost exclusively to your equipment. Increasing your strength doesn't increase your damage; it just allows you to equip better weapons. The melee combat skill will improve your damage by a percentage (up to 30% for really steep requirements), but the base damage goes off of your weapon damage. Weapons require different combinations of multiple stats, and the requirements don't seem to scale linearly with damage, which makes it hard to know what kind of stats you're going to need up ahead to equip better weapons and can therefore slow down your progression, unless you pick one or two upgradeable weapons within the same class and stick with those for the entire game. Even then, the stat requirements for using an upgraded weapon increase dramatically, meaning you have to spend a long time saving up skill points to improve your stats enough to use an upgraded weapon, all-the-while your steadily-increasing stats do nothing for you until you can actually equip it. Meanwhile, skill still plays an important role, obviously, but the increased weight on equipment devalues personal skill a bit.



Companions who helped you, not just you helping them

Gothic and Gothic 2 didn't have companions in the way that we think of them nowadays; you didn't recruit party members to follow you around everywhere you went, carrying your inventory and helping you fight stuff. Rather, they had friendly NPCs who were heavily involved in the main story and who sometimes accompanied you on specific quests. Characters like Diego, Milten, Gorn, and Lester felt like real friends by the end of Gothic 2 because they helped you as much as you helped them. When you had a problem in the story, you would often go to one of those guys (or one of the other friendly recurring characters) and they would share some valuable insight, point you in the right direction, offer their assistance, or even tag along with you. You even get to assemble your own crew to take with you to Irdorath, and each person you bring plays some role in helping you out, even if you're the one doing most of the work.

Talkin' nasty 'bout Nasty's ass.

Pretty much every character in Elex, including your own companions, is there to have you do things for them. There's seemingly no benefit to gathering a group of companions, even though they're kind of implied to be necessary for the story, in terms of building a following to help unite the Free People of Magalan. They barely help defend Origin and they barely help raid the Ice Palace, but in those instances they feel more like background NPCs. The only thing they do is help in combat and provide experience points for completing their quests, all of which are things they ask you to do for them, for no real reason. "You're the person who robbed me blind while I was unconscious? Sure, I'll save your life by helping you track down a bunch of people who're trying to kill you. Let's join forces!" You're doing favors for them long before establishing any kind of friendship, and in fact it takes doing their favors to even become "friends" with them, at which point their development as characters abruptly ends. There's only one companion who actually does something for you, and it's held off until near the very end of the game.



A genuinely intimidating enemy

The orcs served as the main enemy forces in both Gothic and Gothic 2, and they were pretty damn intimidating. There was a lot of potential for them to feel like generic inhuman bad guys, who only existed in the story to give you things to fight, but there was a sense of mystery surrounding them which made them slightly uncanny and instilled a minor sense of foreboding dread in terms of what they were up to and what their ultimate goals were. Most importantly, they were really tough enemies to face in combat, and those games put you up against them very early in the story, when you were still weak and incapable of fighting them, which made them feel genuinely threatening any time they were mentioned in (or part of) the story because you knew, from first-hand experience, how powerful they actually were. It was actually tense and kind of scary having to venture into orcish territory long before you were ready to fight them, and it set a pretty good barometer of how high you would have to climb to be able to stop them.

Fighting orcs in Gothic 2

The bad guys in Elex are the albs, who consist of ordinary humans armed with high tech weaponry and who consume raw elex to give themselves better mental and physical prowess. You yourself are a former alb who was seemingly betrayed in a coup and cast from their ranks, set on a quest for revenge. This fact alone makes them immediately less intimidating when the main character has intimate knowledge of who they are and how they function, because there's no mystery or uncertainty surrounding them. Worse yet, they spend most of the game off-screen, basically sitting around in the snowy mountains to the north not really doing anything. You can go there and fight them if you really want, but there's no reason to until near the end of the game, and they're so far out of the way that they never interfere with anything. Otherwise, you just find a handful of roaming alb troops in the other areas of the game, but these are deliberately designed to be easier, so they never really pose a serious threat. Plus, your frequent interactions with alb separatists -- albs who're rebelling against the ideologies of their leader -- kind of blurs the line between "good guy" and "bad guy" when you've got albs on your side of the fight and it makes the real badguys seem a little too mundane and ordinary.



A better penal colony

The first Gothic was set inside a magically-encapsulated prison run in complete anarchy after the prisoners revolted against the guards and took over the colony. It was a lawless, ruthless place full of cutthroat assholes who would beat you up just to steal a bit of money from you, and sometimes just to prove a point. Nearly everyone was a jerk to you, and people often tried to take advantage of you, extort you, trick you, and betray you. Hardly anyone ever loaned you a helping hand, and you pretty much had to figure things out for yourself. Add in the plethora of deadly beasts and the orc warriors who roamed around outside the camps, and you were pretty much in hostile, dangerous territory everywhere you went, with the possibility of getting knocked out or even killed at any moment. Then you've got the really bleak, grim visual design of everything and the dreary, almost melancholic soundtrack putting the final touches on this utterly unique environment.

The central camp in Elex's Valley of the Damned.

Elex also features a penal colony, which is perhaps meant to be a direct reference to Gothic since they're both places where criminals and law-breakers are sent, they're both called "Valley of [Something]," they both have a giant, wooden, mechanical lift used to access them, and they both (supposedly) have no way out once you're inside. Except, the penal colony in Elex is actually kind of lame. People talk about it like it's some kind of hellish place, but it has pretty much the same aesthetics as the normal areas of Edan, except it has a little fog in some places, and spooky sound effects (like cawing birds and rustling vegetation) playing under the normal soundtrack. A bunch of exiled berserkers will attack you on sight, but this makes them feel like generic mob enemies as opposed to cutthroat criminals. There's only one interaction with an exile who lures you into trap, in the vein of the stuff that happened frequently in Gothic. Except for one area with a bunch of mutants and another area with stalkers and poison spiders, the monsters aren't even that tough. Basically, it felt kind of disappointing because I was expecting a mini tribute to Gothic, and didn't really get it. Maybe that was my false expectation, but it did feel like missed potential.

Why Elex is Better than Skyrim and The Witcher 3

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Skyrim and The Witcher 3 are two of the biggest, most popular open-world action-RPGs ever created. Both of these games set a new standard for the genre when they were released in 2011 and 2015, with absurdly high metascores clocking in at 94 and 93, respectively. I was not as enamored with either of these games as the general public was, despite having a strong affinity for and appreciation of open-world RPGs; I had a lot of negative criticism to level against Skyrim, and even while praising The Witcher 3 rather extensively, I felt like it, too, had a lot of issues that seriously diluted and detracted from the experience. Both top-notch AAA productions with excellent presentation and smooth, accessible gameplay, that ultimately felt lacking in meaningful depth.

Enter Elex, the latest open-world action-RPG from Piranha Bytes, the small German studio behind the Gothic and Risen series. On a surface level it's actually much worse than either Skyrim or The Witcher 3, largely due to production limitations of being a much smaller studio (about 30 people, as opposed to hundreds) with a much smaller budget (about two million dollars versus 80 million plus). There's a distinct lack of polish across almost every aspect of the game, which on first impression can make it seem like a thoroughly mediocre, undesirable experience, but if you can get past these surface-layer blemishes there's a surprisingly deep, rich, and rewarding gameplay experience. By no means is Elex a perfect game, but I honestly feel like it's better than both Skyrim and The Witcher 3 in some of the areas that matter most when it comes to open-world action-RPGs.

Before getting any further, I need to make a few disclaimers. Obviously, I'm not saying that Elex is universally better than Skyrim or The Witcher 3; I'm just saying that it does some important things better. Some of this is subjective, in terms of what I want out of the games I play, while other things are a little more objective, in terms of what constitutes good game design. I'm going to be making a lot of generalizations and simplifications about all three games, which doesn't necessarily mean those statements are 100% true 100% of the time, but that they apply in the majority of cases, or in a general sense. There are exceptions to every rule, and I may not bother to point out every little exception unless I feel they're significant enough. It's been almost six years since I played Skyrim, so my memory is a little fuzzy on some of its finer details, and I may therefore be a little more general in my descriptions of Skyrim. Finally, while I'll be criticizing Skyrim and The Witcher 3 throughout this article, the point is not so much to disparage those games, but to show contrast between those games and Elex, to better exemplify why I feel like Elex does a better job in certain key aspects.



EXPLORATION

Both Skyrim and The Witcher 3 suffer from "icon hunting" exploration, the kind of deal where their massive, open worlds are filled with mostly empty space and you simply wander around waiting for the next icon to pop up on your mini-map or compass. It's almost like the developers knew the worlds they created weren't going to be fun or engaging enough for players to explore it on their own, and felt the need to drop icons everywhere so that players could skip actually exploring the world and cut right to the chase, more quickly and easily finding all the places actually worth exploring. Or maybe it's because they knew their worlds were so big, spread out, and diluted with pointless filler content, that they felt the need to mark the important places to save players the agonizing tedium of having to sift through all the dull filler to get to the good stuff. Either way, it really hurts the feeling of exploration and discovery when the game specifically lays everything out for you. You're not discovering things for yourself; you're going exactly where the game tells you. It doesn't help that most of Skyrim's caves, forts, and dungeons feel functionally identical, or that The Witcher 3 litters your map with the icons well in advance, just by reading a notice board in town.


Elex doesn't bombard you with icons. The only icons it shows you are for the locations of merchants, skill trainers, and teleporter pads, but you have to find all of these and interact with them before the map starts tracking them. The map shows you the full geography of the entire playable area, but it doesn't drag you by the nose to every single point of interest because it expects you to find things for yourself. There's not even a mini-map displayed in the HUD, so instead of staring at the mini-map following icons you're looking around the actual world with your own eyes, from your character's perspective, and exploring on your own. When you discover something cool, it's because you put in the work yourself, which makes it feel more rewarding, especially since other players are unlikely to find the same things you find because other players may not be as determined, clever, or observant as you are, and the game isn't going to tell them "hey, there's a thing over here that you should come see." Since the game isn't spoiling its discoveries by blatantly telegraphing them, there's a genuine sense of curiosity about what lies in wait in this world, and it's pretty satisfying every time you find something.

The game also does away with randomized, variable, or otherwise scaled loot which is often the case in Skyrim and The Witcher 3 -- every item in the game has been rigorously hand-placed by the designers, which allows them to tailor a specific reward for a specific amount of challenge, thereby also creating unique and memorable experiences within the world with unique and memorable rewards. That shipwreck off the southern coast has a powerful ring you can equip, if you can get to it and survive the radiation and strong mutants patrolling the area; that tower overlooking the biodomes has a unique sniper rifle and a fun bit of environmental storytelling if you think to climb to the top of it. It's not just a case of "we need to put some Special Loot here because this is a Special Area," because these special areas aren't really that special; they feel like natural parts of the environment. While you can sometimes predict where you'll find good loot, you sometimes end up disappointed by finding nothing at all, or surprised when you find good loot in a place you didn't expect, and you always find little discoveries scattered about in ordinary locations. It's classic variable reinforcement, the very basis for why gambling is so addicting for people, but instead of the variable reward being something the game dictates for you, the variable reward is based on your actions; where you go at what times in the game and what you do within it.


A big part of Skyrim's marketing campaign was project director Todd Howard hyping up a supposed fact in interviews that you could climb any mountain you see. Besides the fact that this was misleading, it wasn't really that fun because you were either following an intended path up the mountain or awkwardly flinging yourself against the collision mesh in defiance of the game's physics. Elex one-ups this entire concept by giving you a jetpack from the very beginning of the game, opening the entire game world to you from all of its peaks to all of its valleys. Most people will say with reverence, when talking about open-world games, how much they love "being able to see something on the horizon and then actually go there" -- Elex is the king of this, because the jetpack enables such a high degree of freedom of movement that you can go virtually everywhere you desire. The only places that are off limits are the edge of the game world and the mountains around the crater where the comet hit. And unlike The Witcher 3's mostly flat maps where your line of sight is constantly blocked by trees, Elex has a ton of verticality in its world, which gives you a lot of vantage points to see long distances across the map, and also makes the world feel more complex with a lot more hidden areas and more meaningful exploration. It is, literally and figuratively, a much deeper world.



QUESTS

The quests in Skyrim and The Witcher 3 are generally both mindless affairs of following the dotted line and pressing the action button on the appropriate things. Skyrim was infamous for its "radiant quests" that generated an infinite number of random objectives to find random things from random enemies from random locations which stripped nearly all narrative purpose and significance from these side-quests, making them feel quite obviously like tedious busy work. The Witcher 3's quests relied too heavily on using "witcher senses" to solve problems, where you essentially just pressed a button to highlight the solution and then followed the highlights to the conclusion. In both games, the majority of quests felt like they were on-rails and devoid of meaningful player input, even when they were presenting you with interesting stories, unique scenarios, and apparent "choices."


Quests in Elex aren't really that sophisticated since the basic groundwork in most of them consists of the usual "go here, kill this, fetch this, talk to this person" ordeals, but they're not the blase, straightforward affair that tends to cripple these kinds of quests. A lot of quests in Elex actually require you to listen to the NPCs you're talking to, pay attention to what they're saying, and think about what you're doing, instead of just mindlessly following the quest markers. As an example of what I mean: the first town, Goliet, has a set of laws forbidding technology, and they have a place called "the pit" where they throw all the technology they find. One of the town's leaders is very insistent on you adhering to these laws when you first meet him, and if you ask for work to prove yourself so that you can join his faction, he gives you a quest to retrieve a laser rifle from a guy in town. This is actually a test to see how well you understand the laws and how well you follow them; if you treat it like a basic fetch quest and just show up at the guy's hut asking for the weapon, then you'll fail the quest because you didn't question your orders.

In the same town, you're tasked with checking in on some cultivators who're working in the wild lands outside of town. One of the guys there mentions that they're low on food supplies and haven't heard from town in a while. You can either report back to town and bring them a bunch of moldy bread (because the town has no food to spare and that's all they can offer), or collect 50 mushrooms for them. You might be tempted to give them the moldy bread, because you get the same amount of experience either way, except they actually pay you for bringing them the bread, and it saves you the trouble of rounding up all those mushrooms (or parting with your own supply, which you may have already collected in your own adventures), but if you go with this route you later found out that they got food poisoning and couldn't work anymore, and the town leader gets upset with you. It's another basic fetch quest, but it requires you to think about what the possible consequences might be and act intelligently to get the best reward, or else you suffer the consequences.


As a running theme in Elex, most quests have two or three solutions with two or three outcomes, all of which can have lasting consequences and significant effects on the world. The two examples above are both part of joining the berserker faction; if you "fail" enough of these quests by making poor decisions then you can actually become barred from joining the berserkers or even trading with their merchants. In another town, if you lie to a major character, you might think he'd be none the wiser and you'd get away with it, but then later he kills another quest NPC just to get payback on you for lying to him, and then you can no longer proceed in that quest. One of the major towns, the Domed City, has a whole bunch of quests associated with it as different groups push their own agendas; depending on whom you side with throughout all those quests, whole groups of people (or even the entire town itself) can get killed. How you resolve the main quest-line can have huge ramifications for the post-game, with entire factions turning hostile on you.

Compare this to Skyrim where you overthrow the Jarl of Whiterun in an epic setpiece where the whole town is set on fire and you raid the castle, and then everything gets reset back to normal almost immediately afterward, with no major changes and no one really caring. Compare this to The Witcher 3 where you decide to kill the king and nothing really happens -- no one even comments on it. They give you choices that give you the illusion that you're having an impact on the world, but they both tend to skimp on the actual consequences for your actions. The Witcher 3 is actually pretty good with its choices and consequences, especially compared to Skyrim (and most other games) but its variable outcomes are often limited to the scope of the one quest you're working on, like seeing a different ending in a "choose your own adventure" book, not actually affecting the rest of the world.



COMBAT

Combat in Skyrim and The Witcher 3 may look epic and exciting (you're fighting dragons in Skyrim and doing a lot of fancy, elaborate sword moves in The Witcher 3) but they're not actually that sophisticated. Skyrim's combat feels archaically simple, the kind of deal where you basically just stand there clicking on an enemy until one of you dies, not all that different from The Elder Scrolls I: Arena way back in 1994, except without the randomized dice-rolling plus a few additional features like power attacks, manual blocking, and "shouts" (which are functionally identical to magic attacks). It has a stamina meter, but it has a minuscule effect on anything, and enemies barely react to being hit by a melee weapon so it often feels like you're smacking a bag of potatoes. In The Witcher 3, almost every fight boils down to a simplistic, repetitive pattern of attack-attack-dodge, attack-attack-dodge, robbing the entire system of any depth it would claim to have. Meanwhile, its controls feel unresponsive with a complete lack of input queuing leading to a lot of unregistered mouse clicks, and the game's weird targeting system combined with Geralt's highly varied animations can make everythingthing feel frustratingly inconsistent.


Elex's combat is ostensibly identical to The Witcher 3's, since they both use the same combination of light attack, strong attack, block, dodge, and parry, with a third-person camera, in a system that emphasizes timing your attacks and dodges. It even has the same occasionally unresponsive controls, inconsistent animations, and weird hit detection problems. Elex has a few positively distinguishing features, however: a stamina meter that decreases every time you perform any action in combat (except for basic movement) and regenerates after a pause between actions; a combo meter that builds as you time your attacks, causing you to deal more damage as the meter increases; and special attacks that you can unleash once your combo meter reaches a certain threshold.

The key difference with Elex is the stamina meter. With every attack, block, dodge, and parry consuming stamina, every single action you make has to be deliberate and well-timed; if you spam attacks too much, then you'll be out of stamina when it comes time to block or dodge an incoming attack, and if you're blocking or dodging too frequently then you'll be too low on stamina to attack back. Combat in Elex therefore requires a careful balance of offense and defense with every action having some kind of consequence on how the rest of the fight will play out. You have to watch enemies closely and learn when they're going to attack so that you can block or dodge at just the right moment to avoid damage and minimize lost stamina, and you have to know exactly when to attack so that your hit will go through. You have to stay close enough to an enemy to be able to launch into a counter attack at any moment, yet far enough away that you have enough space to react when it comes time to dodge an attack. All-the-while you have to be mindful of your stamina meter, making sure that you're consuming it wisely and making each of your actions count.


Then you've got the combo meter, which increases your damage with each subsequent hit and allows you to execute a strong "finisher" attack once the combo is high enough. Building this combo meter requires that you time your attacks just right. Each time you click the mouse to attack, the meter will build throughout the length of the attack animation, up until a certain point; if you click too early in the animation, then the meter will stop abruptly and give you less progress, and if you click too late, then the meter will reset to what it was before the attack and you'll have to wait for your character's attack animation to reset back to neutral before you can attack again, thus leaving you exposed for damage. If you go too long without attacking, your progress will start to deplete until it eventually reaches zero, or until you attack again. As with the stamina meter, you have to be mindful of how and when you attack, making sure that you're clicking in the right rhythm to build the combo meter as optimally as possible, while waiting for the right opening with enough stamina that you can hopefully pull off a full combo, and keeping your offense going just enough to keep the stamina meter from depleting.

Compare this to Skyrim and The Witcher 3, both of which basically amount to mindless button-mashing click-fests. While both games have a stamina meter, none of them are nearly as consequential as Elex's -- in Skyrim, stamina is really only used for sprinting, blocking, and power attacks, and in The Witcher 3 stamina is only used for casting magic. Neither game seems to reward you for stringing multiple attacks together (at least, not without high-level skills), and neither game has any concern for nuanced timing since you can spam left-click with impunity. The only instance in which timing really matters is when blocking or dodging attacks, and in the case of The Witcher 3 enemies' health bars flash brightly before an attack telling you "hey, you should block or dodge right now," and you have nearly full invincibility while using the basic backwards dodge, which, again, you can practically spam with limited risk of taking any damage. So basically, in both games you just spam left-click and then dodge when you see an enemy telegraph an attack, and repeat the whole process ad infinitum.



PROGRESSION

Oblivion set a trend that nearly ruined progression systems in RPGs with its overzealous level-scaling that insured every single enemy in the game would be tailored to your level so that, no matter where you went or what you did, you'd always experience the same degree of challenge and difficulty. There's some merit to its intentions, but the system was ultimately so flawed that it ruined any feeling of accomplishment for getting stronger because everything else got equally stronger with you. Fortunately, Bethesda seemed to learn their lesson with subsequent games and scaled things back a bit, giving enemies and areas a limited range within which enemies can scale, but Skyrim still suffers from things like being able to kill dragons (which should be city-razing, deadly, end-of-the-world threats and end-game enemies) just a few hours into the game. This is not even to mention the scaling loot that gives you randomized loot tailored for your level, such that it never really matters where you go or what you do (outside of things like finding word walls to learn shouts) because you'll always have essentially the same chance to find the same rewards everywhere you go.


Nothing in Elex scales to your level. All enemy types and strengths are present within the game world right from the start, meaning you can be fighting basic starter enemies or super strong end-game enemies right at level one. Those high-level enemies can kill you in a single hit, in most cases, and so it's up to you to figure out where you can go, what enemies you can fight, and to come up with your own strategies and techniques for staying alive and accomplishing your quest objectives. This places a strong impetus on getting stronger; many of your quests and objectives seem impossibly daunting at the start of the game because of how weak you feel, relative to the rest of the world. Leveling up, therefore, is not just a matter of having fun -- getting new skills and shiny new weapons to play with like a kid picking toys off a shelf and playing with them at a toy store -- but of necessity to overcome the game's incredibly tough difficulty.

Elex doesn't hold your hand throughout any of this; it expects you to figure out for yourself what you can and can't do and solve your problems on your own. So when the game throws a tough challenge your way and you find some clever way around it, or you spend a dozen or more hours getting your butt kicked by certain enemies and finally reach a point when you can comfortably face them, it feels satisfying because it's something you accomplished on your own, without the game's assistance. Elex makes you work -- hard -- for every reward. If you want to get stronger weapons and armor, for instance, you have to craft them yourself, which requires the right attributes and skills plus a ton of money and resources, or find them in the world by exploring extremely dangerous areas (again, no loot is ever scaled or randomized, so there's always a deliberate reward for a specific challenge). Even when you do acquire these powerful items they have really steep requirements to use that will take even more time and effort to equip. This challenge persists for nearly the entire game so that there's always a reason that you want to get stronger, and always some useful skill just out of reach.


The Witcher 3 is wise enough not to have any of its enemies scale down to your level, but it has a few major problems of its own when it comes to progression. Primarily, the amount of content in the game (and thus, the total playtime) is disproportionate to the scale of the progression system. I played both Elex and The Witcher 3 on their respective "hard" modes, spending 100 and 130 hours in each playthrough respectively. It took maybe 20 hours in Elex before I felt like I could comfortably handle most of the weaker enemies, whereas I hit that mark in about 10 hours of The Witcher 3. I was maybe 70 hours into Elex by the time I felt like I could stand a reasonable chance against the toughest enemies, and I hit about that same mark in The Witcher 3 at around 40 hours. In other words, I hit a point in The Witcher 3 when leveling stopped feeling rewarding much sooner than I did in Elex, which is made doubly problematic by the fact that The Witcher 3 is ultimately a bigger and longer game than Elex. Secondly, The Witcher 3 scales quest rewards down as you level up, if you go beyond their intended level range, meaning you can reach a point when the game literally stops rewarding you for completing its quests, which is pretty much guaranteed to happen because you become over-leveled so quickly from its huge abundance of content.



STORY

The main stories in Skyrim and The Witcher 3 both deal with preventing an end-of-the-world type of cataclysmic event -- either dragons or the wild hunt are threatening to take over the realm and destroy all civilization as we know it, and you have to stop them. That's all fine and good for a video game plot, but it's not very good for an open-world game to have such a dire, pressing main story about preventing the end of the world when the player is able to ignore the main threat completely and spend all of his time focusing on utterly trivial, inconsequential things like fetching plants for a random person in town or trying to become a tournament champion in a collectible card game. And frankly, the story isn't very good in either one, mostly consisting of boring busy work that either escalates way too quickly (as in Skyrim, with you being revealed as the Dragonborn, doing a few simple tasks, and then slaying Alduin in the span of a few hours) or drags on way too long (as in The Witcher 3, with you spending 75% of the game on a wild goose chase looking for Ciri).


Elex instead goes for the equally-cliche premise of a revenge story. There's still a cataclysmic threat lurking in the background, which eventually becomes part of the main quest, but it's not presented as the main focus of the story; it's something that could happen, not will imminently happen. Rather, the story is about the main character, Jax, trying to regain his lost strength after he's betrayed by his former comrades, so that he can learn why they betrayed him and ultimately so that he can get revenge on them for trying to kill him and leaving him for dead. So when the player spends dozens of hours ignoring the main quest in favor of exploring the world and doing random side-quests for people who should be totally inconsequential to the outcome of the main story, it actually makes sense -- especially considering the game's insanely tough difficulty -- it's all part of regaining his lost strength, and there's no pressing need to act quickly to stop the badguys from doing anything, thus keeping the gameplay from being at odds with the story.

The most interesting thing about Elex's story isn't actually the main story itself, but rather its lore and backstory. Whereas Skyrim and The Witcher 3 both feel like somewhat generic takes on traditional fantasy settings, Elex feels like something almost completely new and original with its blend of fantasy, science fiction, and post-apocalypse themes. That kind of combination shouldn't really work, but it does thanks to a genuinely interesting premise and effective world-building. I, for one, found it fascinating learning about what the world was like before the comet, how the survivors adapted after the comet, how the world split into its three primary factions, how each faction uses elex for its own goals, and so on. I normally don't like it when games resort to fleshing out their lore by strewing audio logs and journal pages around the world (all three games do this, to an extent), but Elex was a rare case where I actually enjoyed reading (and listening to) nearly everything I came across, in large part because of the huge variety of snippets you can find from all different time periods in multiple types of media and formats, nearly all of which relate directly to the game's central premise.


I never read any of the history or story books in Skyrim or The Witcher 3 because I just didn't care; as compelling as the gameplay can be in both of those games, I never felt like I needed (or desired) a deeper understanding of their worlds to appreciate them any further. I still read the random excerpts and journal pages that you find while exploring because they usually had a direct connection to the environment you were in, but it felt more like an obligation and I don't remember them having much of an impact on my overall impression of the game. I've played Elex much more recently than those games so I have much clearer memories of specific notes and audio logs, but I feel like they had a much bigger impact on establishing the world's lore and backstory, to the point that I was genuinely interested in reading and listening to the logs I found, rather than just going through the motions. There's a pretty major sub-plot, for instance, about "Infinite Skies" and Calaan (the clerics' god) that you piece together through dozens of text entries and journals, solving a mystery sort of like an anthropological researcher, which sheds a whole new light on the game's lore and backstory, which is conveyed entirely through environmental notes and clues, and you have to connect these dots entirely on your own to reach its conclusion.



IN CONCLUSION

Make no mistake, Elex is not a perfect game. In typical Piranha Bytes fashion it feels a little under-cooked, as if another six months of development time could've elevated it from a "good game with some problems" to an "all-around great game." Some ideas feel poorly thought-out and awkwardly implemented, while certain kinks and hiccups can leave some mechanical systems feeling a little unpolished. Low production value (relative to other $50-60 games) combined with a mediocre presentation, a "boring" main character, a "clunky" combat system, and a brutally tough difficulty curve will be enough to turn some people off within the first hour. To me, none of the game's problems were strong enough to detract from the overall experience, even though some of them seriously annoyed me and others are completely inexcusable. Some of the game's so-called "problems" aren't even problems as far I'm concerned, with a bunch of mainstream criticism seeming utterly misguided and unfounded -- disparaging comments made by people who never understood the game's intentions and never bothered to learn its systems.

The reason I'm so high on Elex, despite its apparent issues, is because it's an open-world action-RPG that values mechanical depth and player agency over things like presentation and accessibility. This is a game that doesn't hold your hand; what you do in the world matters, and it takes actual thought, effort, and time to master its systems and overcome its challenges, thereby making it a deeply engaging and rewarding experience. And what it does well, it does extremely well. The world is huge while still offering a ton of depth and rewarding exploration, the quests have a lot of great choices and consequences that can have a dramatic effect on the world, the combat demands precise timing and positioning while managing stamina and your combo meter, the progression system uses fixed enemies and hand-placed items to create a very specific difficulty curve that's genuinely challenging and therefore rewarding when you level up and get stronger, and the story has a lot of intriguing elements in terms of the world and backstory.

In the grand scheme of things, Elex is greater than the sum of its parts, but even on an individual level it does a lot of important things better than Skyrim and The Witcher 3, which is especially impressive because it was made by a much smaller team on a much smaller budget. I played Skyrim and The Witcher 3 for about 130 hours, each, and was glad to finally be done with each of them upon completing them; I may never play either game ever again. I played Elex for 100 hours and then immediately launched a second playthrough, and upon completing that I immediately launched a third playthrough. I could even see myself replaying Elex again in five or ten years. This was seriously one of the most satisfying, most engrossing game experiences I've had in a long time, and as a long time fan of Piranha Bytes who's been disappointed with or underwhelmed by everything they've put out in the last 15 years, I'm pleased to say that this is easily the best game they've made since Gothic 2 and that's reason enough to celebrate.

If you're not familiar with Piranha Bytes' previous games, then you should know that Elex is in the same category as industry heavyweights like Skyrim and The Witcher 3, in terms of genre and overall value for the amount of content you get with it, but it has a whole lot more heart and soul in exchange for not having the same "AAA" polish. If you can put up with a lower-budget game with some janky rough edges, and especially if you value actual gameplay and mechanical depth over presentation, then Elex is definitely worth your time and money.
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