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Pentiment
2022
‘This was the only earthly love of my life, and I could not, then or ever after, call that love by name.’
– Umberto Eco, Il nome della rosa, 1980.
Capturing the contours of a sixteenth-century society in the Holy Roman Empire is a difficult task. Central Europe was undergoing complex transitions as a result of demographic recovery, religious innovation and the administrative mosaic of Germanic territories. Recent historiography emphasises the interlocking and overlapping of forces that shaped regions and societies: it is difficult to generalise local observations to the rest of the Empire, but it is also unwise to paint the portrait of a village on the basis of generalities alone. For example, the forms of feudalism differed on either side of the Elbe. A theoretical simplification is to consider the regions south and west of the Elbe as being under the rule of Grundherrschaft [1]. This form of feudalism developed from the 14th century onwards with the decline of the traditional smaller lords and the demographic collapse caused by the Black Death. This situation allowed the surviving peasants to expand their farms and establish stronger hereditary rights over the land. Although still subject to the authority of their local lord, they had greater freedom of action.
History, fiction and myth: the Umbertian gaze
Towards the end of the fifteenth century, friction between the nobility and the peasantry increased as the former sought to assert their authority over land that seemed to have been de facto freed from serfdom. Another factor in the social crisis was undoubtedly the demographic upturn from 1470 onwards, which swelled the cohort of landless peasants, while small landowners were no longer able to take advantage of the economic opportunities of the previous century. In some southern regions of the Holy Roman Empire, agricultural production was no longer profitable, so it became mainly subsistence farming. These factors led to a widening gap between the peasants and the lords. The lords, sometimes nobility, sometimes clergy, were in latent conflict for other economic and political reasons.
It is difficult to summarise several thousand pages of social history in a few lines, so these few elements of context will suffice. Pentiment makes the bold choice of setting its action in this complex historical background, in a locality centred around the village of Tassing and Kiersau Abbey. The project explicitly borrows from Umberto Eco's The Name of the Rose (1980). Although the historical context is different, the themes and structure are similar. Eco's readers will find themselves in familiar territory: Pentiment allows the player to assume the role of Andreas Maler, a Nuremberg artist commissioned by the Abbot of Kiersau to illustrate a Book of Hours as part of his certification as a master artist. During his stay in Tassing, Andreas gets to know the many members of the local society, until a murder takes place. For personal reasons, Andreas is thrust into the role of detective and must unravel the many secrets of the community.
Like The Name of the Rose, Pentiment multiplies points of view and semantic layers. The game is at once a general dissertation on the social history of the Holy Roman Empire, a detective story, a philosophical debate, a theological meditation and a discussion on the value of storytelling. It is through this literary device, borrowed from Eco, that the title manages to find a great deal of coherence in its storytelling [2]. The investigation – i.e. the criminal story – is interwoven with the socio-political narrative, so that the player is constantly confronted with both general and specific elements. Andreas Maler acts as a bridge between these two worlds. Firstly, because he finds himself at the crossroads of very different social universes: as a traveller, he is used to many cultures; as a young artist, he associates with the powerful without being fully part of their universe. Above all, he is a stranger to Tassing, and his gaze is that of a witness whose interest in local politics, however altruistic, is rather weak. In other words, his view is certainly subjective, but it is all-encompassing. These characteristics are very similar to those of William of Baskerville, who had a complex theological background.
Depicting the Middle Ages through the new social studies
In terms of narrative economy, such a protagonist captures the player's attention in a number of ways. For classically trained historians, Andreas provides access to the ancient and medieval literary world; for mystery fans, his role as a detective is crucial. The choice of Andreas' background means that, in addition to the interactive gameplay typical of CRPGs, players can personalise their experience around the themes that interest them most. As a Latinist, I was pleasantly surprised to see Pentiment commanding a very solid Latin, and to read the classical locutions quoted by Andreas. The title has a rare encyclopaedic quality, in tune with recent scholarly developments. There remain a few very minor approximations, such as certain onomastic choices (Else Mülleryn should rather be spelt Müllerin) and Kiersau's remarkable and exagerated interregionalism. On the latter point, the choice was certainly motivated by Umberto Eco's vision of a universalist abbey and a political response to Kingdom Come: Delivrance (2018): the figure of the Ethiopian priest Sebhat seems a rather explicit foil to Daniel Vávra's ultra-conservative claims about the absence of people of colour in fifteenth-century Bohemia.
Pentiment always uses its encyclopaedic knowledge wisely to illustrate medieval mentalities. Arrogantly imparting knowledge is the best way to undermine the friendship and support of the game's various characters. The game constantly seeks to highlight the limits of Andreas' knowledge and the subjectivity of the concept of truth. As such, Pentiment seeks to portray the situation of women in the Middle Ages with real nuance. The game's fictional micro-history project features women who are involved in their village's economy and are pillars of the community. Discussions with the Benedictine nuns also provide an opportunity to explore women in religion, and Pentiment clearly illustrates the prejudices of the time, as well as Andreas' very masculine perspective. In contrast to the Christian tradition, which leaves no place for women in its traditional hierarchy – women's religious offices generally disappeared in the central Middle Ages, which is exactly the situation described for Kiersau Abbey – and restricts them to religious life or marriage, Pentiment constantly emphasises their agency and the ways in which they can circumvent the restrictions. Amalie illustrates the extreme spiritual experiences that women can voluntarily inflict on themselves through her retreat and mystical visions. Illuminata embodies a mastery of the literary classics, while the other sisters stand out for their practical knowledge and integration into Tassing society.
To write, to read and to die in the universal library
Like Umberto Eco's library, that of Kiersau Abbey is intended to be universal. It seeks to circumscribe all known knowledge through the possession of rare volumes, be they erudite treatises or chivalric romances. Writing and rewriting are at the heart of Pentiment's project. The narrative is subjective and subject to numerous corrections: when the dialogue is presented, mistakes punctuate the text and are corrected in front of the player. Similarly, the choice of script depends on the impression the speaker makes on Andreas. He presents the discourse of the educated clergy in a Gothic style, while the villagers have a much less polished script. Above all, it is noteworthy that Andreas changes his representation according to the information he receives. For example, when he learns that the shepherd is actually an avid reader of Latin books, he updates the script used in the dialogue. These elements are linked to a concern for memory, and Pentiment sets out to question what deserves to be left to posterity, rejecting the idea of a monolithic history. The truth is in a constant state of flux and varies from different perspectives: it is this insight that guides Andreas' investigation into the various murders. The game is less about finding the culprit than about writing Tassing's story. The game forces the player to accuse one of the suspects for each murder, but it is remarkable that all the solutions seem unsatisfactory. Pentiment is not about solving murders, but about understanding how Tassing society reacts to events that upset its internal balance.
Pentiment borrows its idea of humour from The Name of the Rose [3]: laughter is used to subvert the order of the world, because it reveals – through sarcasm or astonishment – the way in which the world turns. The comic scenes in the game anchor the narrative in a plausible reality, not just a cold, theoretical illustration of 16th-century Tassing. Pentiment's dialogue system is not so much a mechanic that supports 'choices' leading to different endings, but rather a sincere exploration of the world. Comedy is necessary because it is an instrument of freedom and truth, which all the characters seek in one way or another: to laugh is to break free from social bonds, hence Saint Grobian's irreverence. Conversely, silence allows the player to conform to the social mould, to maintain the status quo. Such a position is sometimes necessary to make progress in an investigation without alienating potential allies. The great strength of Pentiment is that it strikes the right balance between laughter, speech and silence. The characters, including Andreas, have to take a stand, and the question is how to do it.
There are no straightforward answers, and the game is never preachy or pretentious. The complexity of the world, of social relations and social transformations explain the hesitations. Uncertainty is part of the truth: Pentiment shines through its unique artistic direction, borrowed from manuscripts and engravings. In a stroke of genius, the game moves drawn characters on fixed backgrounds. There's something magical about seeing sketches move in this way, evoking a kind of collage. The practice of cutting out and reusing figures and backgrounds is well documented in the production of medieval manuscripts, underlining the plasticity of art in the representation of history [4]. In a fifteen-hour adventure, Pentiment creates such a vast universe. I find it difficult to write more, given the extraordinary richness so elegantly condensed into a game, from religious issues to economic innovations. In this respect, it is worth mentioning the welcome presence of an indicative bibliography in the game's credits. Umberto Eco concludes The Name of the Rose with a variation on a line by Bernard of Cluny: 'Stat rosa pristina nomine, nomina nuda tenemus', he writes. The original rose lives on in its name, we keep the names naked. To Bernard of Cluny's 'ubi sunt...?', Eco adds the persistence of memory. The memory of people who existed centuries ago should persist even more; Pentiment is a sublime fresco in their honour, coming as close as possible to the historical truth without ever being able to fully circumscribe it: 'Since I tell to its end my story, then joyful shall be my days.' [5]
___________
[1] Joachim Whaley, 'Economic Landscapes, Communities, and their Grievances', in Germany and the Holy Roman Empire, vol. 1, Oxford University Press, Oxford, 2012, pp. 122-142.
[2] José-Marie Cortès, 'Itinéraires interprétatifs dans Le Nom de la Rose', in Synergies Inde, no. 2, 2007, pp. 289-306.
[3] Michel Perrin, 'Problématique du rire dans Le Nom de la Rose d'Umberto Eco (1980) : de la Bible au XXe siècle', in Bulletin de l'Association Guillaume Budé, no. 58, 1999, pp. 463-477.
[4] Anna Dlabacová, ‘Medieval Photoshop’, on leidenmedievalistsblog.nl, 18th February 2022, consulted on 13th June 2023.
[5] Wolfram von Eschenback, Parzival, II, XVI, l. 676 (trans. Jessie L. Weston), c. 1210.
– Umberto Eco, Il nome della rosa, 1980.
Capturing the contours of a sixteenth-century society in the Holy Roman Empire is a difficult task. Central Europe was undergoing complex transitions as a result of demographic recovery, religious innovation and the administrative mosaic of Germanic territories. Recent historiography emphasises the interlocking and overlapping of forces that shaped regions and societies: it is difficult to generalise local observations to the rest of the Empire, but it is also unwise to paint the portrait of a village on the basis of generalities alone. For example, the forms of feudalism differed on either side of the Elbe. A theoretical simplification is to consider the regions south and west of the Elbe as being under the rule of Grundherrschaft [1]. This form of feudalism developed from the 14th century onwards with the decline of the traditional smaller lords and the demographic collapse caused by the Black Death. This situation allowed the surviving peasants to expand their farms and establish stronger hereditary rights over the land. Although still subject to the authority of their local lord, they had greater freedom of action.
History, fiction and myth: the Umbertian gaze
Towards the end of the fifteenth century, friction between the nobility and the peasantry increased as the former sought to assert their authority over land that seemed to have been de facto freed from serfdom. Another factor in the social crisis was undoubtedly the demographic upturn from 1470 onwards, which swelled the cohort of landless peasants, while small landowners were no longer able to take advantage of the economic opportunities of the previous century. In some southern regions of the Holy Roman Empire, agricultural production was no longer profitable, so it became mainly subsistence farming. These factors led to a widening gap between the peasants and the lords. The lords, sometimes nobility, sometimes clergy, were in latent conflict for other economic and political reasons.
It is difficult to summarise several thousand pages of social history in a few lines, so these few elements of context will suffice. Pentiment makes the bold choice of setting its action in this complex historical background, in a locality centred around the village of Tassing and Kiersau Abbey. The project explicitly borrows from Umberto Eco's The Name of the Rose (1980). Although the historical context is different, the themes and structure are similar. Eco's readers will find themselves in familiar territory: Pentiment allows the player to assume the role of Andreas Maler, a Nuremberg artist commissioned by the Abbot of Kiersau to illustrate a Book of Hours as part of his certification as a master artist. During his stay in Tassing, Andreas gets to know the many members of the local society, until a murder takes place. For personal reasons, Andreas is thrust into the role of detective and must unravel the many secrets of the community.
Like The Name of the Rose, Pentiment multiplies points of view and semantic layers. The game is at once a general dissertation on the social history of the Holy Roman Empire, a detective story, a philosophical debate, a theological meditation and a discussion on the value of storytelling. It is through this literary device, borrowed from Eco, that the title manages to find a great deal of coherence in its storytelling [2]. The investigation – i.e. the criminal story – is interwoven with the socio-political narrative, so that the player is constantly confronted with both general and specific elements. Andreas Maler acts as a bridge between these two worlds. Firstly, because he finds himself at the crossroads of very different social universes: as a traveller, he is used to many cultures; as a young artist, he associates with the powerful without being fully part of their universe. Above all, he is a stranger to Tassing, and his gaze is that of a witness whose interest in local politics, however altruistic, is rather weak. In other words, his view is certainly subjective, but it is all-encompassing. These characteristics are very similar to those of William of Baskerville, who had a complex theological background.
Depicting the Middle Ages through the new social studies
In terms of narrative economy, such a protagonist captures the player's attention in a number of ways. For classically trained historians, Andreas provides access to the ancient and medieval literary world; for mystery fans, his role as a detective is crucial. The choice of Andreas' background means that, in addition to the interactive gameplay typical of CRPGs, players can personalise their experience around the themes that interest them most. As a Latinist, I was pleasantly surprised to see Pentiment commanding a very solid Latin, and to read the classical locutions quoted by Andreas. The title has a rare encyclopaedic quality, in tune with recent scholarly developments. There remain a few very minor approximations, such as certain onomastic choices (Else Mülleryn should rather be spelt Müllerin) and Kiersau's remarkable and exagerated interregionalism. On the latter point, the choice was certainly motivated by Umberto Eco's vision of a universalist abbey and a political response to Kingdom Come: Delivrance (2018): the figure of the Ethiopian priest Sebhat seems a rather explicit foil to Daniel Vávra's ultra-conservative claims about the absence of people of colour in fifteenth-century Bohemia.
Pentiment always uses its encyclopaedic knowledge wisely to illustrate medieval mentalities. Arrogantly imparting knowledge is the best way to undermine the friendship and support of the game's various characters. The game constantly seeks to highlight the limits of Andreas' knowledge and the subjectivity of the concept of truth. As such, Pentiment seeks to portray the situation of women in the Middle Ages with real nuance. The game's fictional micro-history project features women who are involved in their village's economy and are pillars of the community. Discussions with the Benedictine nuns also provide an opportunity to explore women in religion, and Pentiment clearly illustrates the prejudices of the time, as well as Andreas' very masculine perspective. In contrast to the Christian tradition, which leaves no place for women in its traditional hierarchy – women's religious offices generally disappeared in the central Middle Ages, which is exactly the situation described for Kiersau Abbey – and restricts them to religious life or marriage, Pentiment constantly emphasises their agency and the ways in which they can circumvent the restrictions. Amalie illustrates the extreme spiritual experiences that women can voluntarily inflict on themselves through her retreat and mystical visions. Illuminata embodies a mastery of the literary classics, while the other sisters stand out for their practical knowledge and integration into Tassing society.
To write, to read and to die in the universal library
Like Umberto Eco's library, that of Kiersau Abbey is intended to be universal. It seeks to circumscribe all known knowledge through the possession of rare volumes, be they erudite treatises or chivalric romances. Writing and rewriting are at the heart of Pentiment's project. The narrative is subjective and subject to numerous corrections: when the dialogue is presented, mistakes punctuate the text and are corrected in front of the player. Similarly, the choice of script depends on the impression the speaker makes on Andreas. He presents the discourse of the educated clergy in a Gothic style, while the villagers have a much less polished script. Above all, it is noteworthy that Andreas changes his representation according to the information he receives. For example, when he learns that the shepherd is actually an avid reader of Latin books, he updates the script used in the dialogue. These elements are linked to a concern for memory, and Pentiment sets out to question what deserves to be left to posterity, rejecting the idea of a monolithic history. The truth is in a constant state of flux and varies from different perspectives: it is this insight that guides Andreas' investigation into the various murders. The game is less about finding the culprit than about writing Tassing's story. The game forces the player to accuse one of the suspects for each murder, but it is remarkable that all the solutions seem unsatisfactory. Pentiment is not about solving murders, but about understanding how Tassing society reacts to events that upset its internal balance.
Pentiment borrows its idea of humour from The Name of the Rose [3]: laughter is used to subvert the order of the world, because it reveals – through sarcasm or astonishment – the way in which the world turns. The comic scenes in the game anchor the narrative in a plausible reality, not just a cold, theoretical illustration of 16th-century Tassing. Pentiment's dialogue system is not so much a mechanic that supports 'choices' leading to different endings, but rather a sincere exploration of the world. Comedy is necessary because it is an instrument of freedom and truth, which all the characters seek in one way or another: to laugh is to break free from social bonds, hence Saint Grobian's irreverence. Conversely, silence allows the player to conform to the social mould, to maintain the status quo. Such a position is sometimes necessary to make progress in an investigation without alienating potential allies. The great strength of Pentiment is that it strikes the right balance between laughter, speech and silence. The characters, including Andreas, have to take a stand, and the question is how to do it.
There are no straightforward answers, and the game is never preachy or pretentious. The complexity of the world, of social relations and social transformations explain the hesitations. Uncertainty is part of the truth: Pentiment shines through its unique artistic direction, borrowed from manuscripts and engravings. In a stroke of genius, the game moves drawn characters on fixed backgrounds. There's something magical about seeing sketches move in this way, evoking a kind of collage. The practice of cutting out and reusing figures and backgrounds is well documented in the production of medieval manuscripts, underlining the plasticity of art in the representation of history [4]. In a fifteen-hour adventure, Pentiment creates such a vast universe. I find it difficult to write more, given the extraordinary richness so elegantly condensed into a game, from religious issues to economic innovations. In this respect, it is worth mentioning the welcome presence of an indicative bibliography in the game's credits. Umberto Eco concludes The Name of the Rose with a variation on a line by Bernard of Cluny: 'Stat rosa pristina nomine, nomina nuda tenemus', he writes. The original rose lives on in its name, we keep the names naked. To Bernard of Cluny's 'ubi sunt...?', Eco adds the persistence of memory. The memory of people who existed centuries ago should persist even more; Pentiment is a sublime fresco in their honour, coming as close as possible to the historical truth without ever being able to fully circumscribe it: 'Since I tell to its end my story, then joyful shall be my days.' [5]
___________
[1] Joachim Whaley, 'Economic Landscapes, Communities, and their Grievances', in Germany and the Holy Roman Empire, vol. 1, Oxford University Press, Oxford, 2012, pp. 122-142.
[2] José-Marie Cortès, 'Itinéraires interprétatifs dans Le Nom de la Rose', in Synergies Inde, no. 2, 2007, pp. 289-306.
[3] Michel Perrin, 'Problématique du rire dans Le Nom de la Rose d'Umberto Eco (1980) : de la Bible au XXe siècle', in Bulletin de l'Association Guillaume Budé, no. 58, 1999, pp. 463-477.
[4] Anna Dlabacová, ‘Medieval Photoshop’, on leidenmedievalistsblog.nl, 18th February 2022, consulted on 13th June 2023.
[5] Wolfram von Eschenback, Parzival, II, XVI, l. 676 (trans. Jessie L. Weston), c. 1210.
Yume Nikki
2004
??????????
Saints Row
2022
this game is an utterly fascinating look into the minds of people who want to tear away from establishment to forge their own destiny and identity. a group of young 20-to-30-somethings who use the ruins of what theyve found to try and rebuild something and failing thoroughly. the sheer vitriol this game exudes for what came before is palpable and i almost respect the vigor this game rewrites history with, but ultimately the end product is SO bad and so lazy that i cant sincerely say i do admire the attempt. so unfunny, so clunky and so much worse in every single way than every game that game before that the devs should be embarrassed by the anger they came at this franchise with.
wouldve probably been more invested if the main character was like, an old dad or something. until that exists its just ok
its still The Last of Us
whether thats a recommendation or not is in the eye of the beholder. if you want this game, you probably already bought it. otherwise you probably already bought the remaster thats already playable on ps5.
is this the definitive version of TLoU? yes. is this game undeniably gorgeous? yes. does the gyro aiming make the original impossible to go back to? yes.
would i recommend the remake over the remaster? at full price fuck no, but if the new graphics and especially accessibility features are a real selling point to you then this is a great way to experience a game with frankly grossly unappreciated TPS combat.
this marks the second PS5 exclusive to be a PS3 game. what a time to be a gamer
whether thats a recommendation or not is in the eye of the beholder. if you want this game, you probably already bought it. otherwise you probably already bought the remaster thats already playable on ps5.
is this the definitive version of TLoU? yes. is this game undeniably gorgeous? yes. does the gyro aiming make the original impossible to go back to? yes.
would i recommend the remake over the remaster? at full price fuck no, but if the new graphics and especially accessibility features are a real selling point to you then this is a great way to experience a game with frankly grossly unappreciated TPS combat.
this marks the second PS5 exclusive to be a PS3 game. what a time to be a gamer
Red Dead Redemption
2010
whose big idea was it to make the default enemy sound the wilhelm scream like i wasnt gonna notice
mindless gaming, nintendo fans are eating good
Elden Ring
2022
This review contains spoilers
Elden Ring is an interesting game for me, to say the least. It combines aspects of games I enjoy thoroughly with elements that sometimes drive me up the wall. Sounds like a negative way to start off my thoughts about the game so far (yes, so far; I'm a majority of the way through the game trying to decide if I actually want to keep playing, to be clear).
Going in, I was well aware of the hype surrounding the game and the sheer number of folks who were (and are) absolutely taken with the game. Of these, many were longtime Soulsborne fans as well as newcomers to the franchise (like myself). My hype was considerably less than most, though definitely not pessimistic or skeptical. Just curious. And after playing the game for quite some time now, I feel as though my curiosity has been satisfied, if nothing else.
Elden Ring lives up to the Soulsborne reputation of soul-crushing difficulty in a sense, which, for better or worse, has come to be what largely defines Souls in the average gamer's mind even more than the level of thought and consideration that is put into the world and gameplay systems of the series itself. Yeah, Elden Ring is a hard game. It makes no bones about that. But there's a hell of a lot more to it than just that.
At the heart of Elden Ring is the sense of freedom. Freedom to go and do largely whatever your level of skill and preparedness allows you to do. Want to challenge the boss awaiting you in front of this massive tree? Go for it. Want to tackle this dungeon tucked away in the side of this cliff? Do it. Even if you're not properly geared/prepared for what you come across, the game doesn't usually stop you from at least trying what's available. Depending on how stubborn or persistent you are, you may come out on top. Or you may end up retreating and coming back to wreck whatever plagued you before once you've gathered some levels and beastly weapons. I haven’t experience a level of freedom in an open world like this since Breath of the Wild, and at times it evoked the same sense of exploration. At times.
And the options that you’re given to spice up combat work beautifully with the various obstacles you encounter. With the katana alone, you can do so much. One handing has its own moveset with respective benefits, as does dual wielding and its power stance combo. Blood loss is such a strong status effect that dual wielding in particular is often incredibly effective against most bosses, though I’m a bit partial to one handing the Nagakiba and applying the Seppuku Ash of War to it. It’s too satisfying, and really works toward reinforcing that fantasy samurai experience thanks to the class variety in the game.
When Elden Ring is at its best, it's damn good. When it's at its weakest, you really feel it (insert Xenoblade joke here), which leads to discussion on the concept of difficulty. The loop of dying repeatedly until you come out on top (the Souls experience) is both rewarding and frustrating. The reason I say “and” is because of how many boss designs and enemy placements/dungeon designs in the game that are very much jank-feeling.
When it comes to bosses, the general vibe I get is that they’re designed for a game that allows greater freedom of movement than what ER offers the player, while also tending to hit overly hard (bosses like Radahn getting nerfed seems to confirm the latter conclusion). Take the game’s first major boss, for example. Margit has been pretty infamous in the gaming community as a whole for how much of a punch to the face he is for players, both new and old. In addition to having a wealth of moves and seemingly never-ending combos, Margit has the ability to two-shot even those who have gotten to a fairly high level for the very first major castle of the game.
Contrast this with the second major story boss, Godrick, who is about as difficult as how I’d expect Margit ought to be. Clear patterns, reasonable damage inflicted, while still remaining a challenge. But this sense of challenge doesn’t feel consistent. Still other bosses you encounter later such as Rennala and Godfrey end up being complete pushovers, however. You could attribute this to the player’s progression, but if anything, difficulty should scale upward with player progression, not scale sharply downward as the player slowly becomes godlike. While Radahn hit a bit too hard pre-patch 1.03, I’d readily say that that’s one of the game’s high points for boss fights thus far. Good patterns, unique phases, fun gimmicks (gimmicks just meaning interesting mechanics, not strictly a negative term).
Yet this is the main problem I have with this kind of implementation of difficulty (at least within the context of ER). The means of handling the difficulty is generally reduced to encouraging the player to seek out means of overcoming the obstacle with more powerful gear and items rather than through pure skill. The combat systems are far too well-developed to place this kind of control over difficulty in something such as equipment—equipment that is often a bit too easily obtained.
Yes, ER is an RPG. I'm well aware of that. But I'd say more often than not that attempting to blend an open world with the kind of freedom of customization that ER offers ends up defeating the purpose of difficulty existing. Quite honestly, I hesitate to even call ER's difficulty balance a balance at all when so many means of destroying that balance exist within the game, even post-patch 1.03. As someone who’d readily admit my lack of skill with harder games like this, I’m not complaining that those options exist on their own, but I also question their presence when From clearly puts a lot of thought into everything else they’ve put into the game. And this isn’t even considering the presence of spirit summons, which tend to do the same against the intended difficulty.
I briefly mentioned enemy placement/dungeon design as something that doesn’t feel quite right in ER. What I mean by that is how certain layouts and enemy placements feel like a massive frick-you to the player depending on what abilities they possess or build you’re running. Raya Lucaria, for instance, is absolute hell to run through as a melee player because you’re consistently outranged by magic users that pelt you with spells at just the right frequency to essentially stun lock you. Couple that with how obtuse the latter parts of the dungeon’s layout are and you have an experience that’s much more infuriating than it needs to be. And this is just one example. Enemies jumping from behind structures where it’s impossible to see them before you get shanked is another example.
Some bosses and enemy encounters find themselves in areas that directly hinder the player’s ability to make use of the skills they possess rather than genuinely challenging them. Enclosed spaces for more actively moving or noticeably large bosses (the Gael Tunnel Magma Wyrm is a good example of this) don’t introduce difficulty. They’re artificial limitations that do nothing but serve to make the fights annoying rather than hard.
I probably shouldn’t need to clarify, but I will anyway because I’m sure someone will misinterpret my complaints as someone just needing to “git gud,” whatever that means. I have no issue at all with games that present a proper challenge (which ER both does and doesn’t, depending on the situation). But at least give the player a fair shot at applying what they’ve learned and improved on. Enemies/bosses having one-shot attacks when you’re level 80+ isn’t a good example of this. Enemies/bosses having clear patterns to learn and reasonable punishes for sloppy play is a good example of this.
If it seems like I’m speaking out of both sides of my mouth (keyboard? meh) with the game being unfairly hard at times while also being too easily broken, then that sense of confusion or contradiction is exactly how I’ve felt playing ER. It goes back to there not being a sense of balance with the challenge presented.
Moving on to other aspects of ER, I’d say the open world generally doesn’t add much to the overall experience. Yes, the exploration is often rewarding, but it also slows the action down to a crawl and obscures the sense of purpose the player should have in resolving the world’s problems. And, as much as From clearly placed much more thought into the world they created, the inevitable trap of the open world feeling bland or barren after a certain amount of time playing does creep in. Not as strongly as it has for other games in the same open style, but it does regardless. The fact that each of the major regions feature very similar locales (not visually, but functionally) doesn’t help, nor does reuse of multiple bosses help either.
Small note, but visually, the open world impresses. There were definitely moments that were a mild “wow” when I first encountered them. The bridges in the Mountaintops of the Giants being a more recent one.
I’m usually one to appreciate open world gameplay, but if anything, ER had me craving a more linear, tightly-structured experience, honestly. Given that this is From’s first attempt at this kind of overworked, I’m sure they can figure out where to improve and expand on what they’ve started. Or they could just opt to go back to the more linear style of previous Souls games. Their choice, ultimately.
Smaller gripes, but ones that still exist, include the awful camera and technical performance. Frankly, the camera functions like it’s out of a late 2000s PS3/360 game. It is not at all designed well for how the bosses and enemies of the game move, often jumping in random directions to accommodate this kind of movement. On console, there’s also some form of motion blur that just exacerbates the issue.
Performance matters the least, perhaps, but on PS4 it’s surprisingly variable. Rain tanks the FPS below 30 consistently. Not infrequently, but consistently. It’ll just hover in that below-30 range. I hesitate to say it’s ever been a hindrance to gameplay, but for a $60 AAA release, frame rate issues on a game that is hardly the most visually impressive on the console I played it on are a surprise.
Reading back, it seems like my thoughts are overwhelmingly negative for Elden Ring. On the contrary, I’m far more neutral or middle-of-the-road, so to speak. The positives and negatives somewhat balance out for me to consider the game decently good, but nothing spectacular. If others are blown away by it, more power to them. I question whether the hype has led to more positive response to the game than it deserves, but it’s not my place to say whether or not hype or reception is misplaced. I can only speak for myself.
I just didn’t have that same experience, and am left in the latter part of the game wondering if I want to continue. The moment many have seemed to experience where the game “clicks” never came along for me. I never found that stride where I couldn’t get enough of the Lands Between and what they had to offer. For now at least, I’m shelving the game and seeing if I ever find the itch to go back and continue, but I hope my perspective at least offers a bit of variety from the usual extremes of overly positive and irrationally negative. I have no bone to pick with From, nor will I sing their praises. Elden Ring’s good, but that’s the most that I can say for it based on my experiences thus far.
Going in, I was well aware of the hype surrounding the game and the sheer number of folks who were (and are) absolutely taken with the game. Of these, many were longtime Soulsborne fans as well as newcomers to the franchise (like myself). My hype was considerably less than most, though definitely not pessimistic or skeptical. Just curious. And after playing the game for quite some time now, I feel as though my curiosity has been satisfied, if nothing else.
Elden Ring lives up to the Soulsborne reputation of soul-crushing difficulty in a sense, which, for better or worse, has come to be what largely defines Souls in the average gamer's mind even more than the level of thought and consideration that is put into the world and gameplay systems of the series itself. Yeah, Elden Ring is a hard game. It makes no bones about that. But there's a hell of a lot more to it than just that.
At the heart of Elden Ring is the sense of freedom. Freedom to go and do largely whatever your level of skill and preparedness allows you to do. Want to challenge the boss awaiting you in front of this massive tree? Go for it. Want to tackle this dungeon tucked away in the side of this cliff? Do it. Even if you're not properly geared/prepared for what you come across, the game doesn't usually stop you from at least trying what's available. Depending on how stubborn or persistent you are, you may come out on top. Or you may end up retreating and coming back to wreck whatever plagued you before once you've gathered some levels and beastly weapons. I haven’t experience a level of freedom in an open world like this since Breath of the Wild, and at times it evoked the same sense of exploration. At times.
And the options that you’re given to spice up combat work beautifully with the various obstacles you encounter. With the katana alone, you can do so much. One handing has its own moveset with respective benefits, as does dual wielding and its power stance combo. Blood loss is such a strong status effect that dual wielding in particular is often incredibly effective against most bosses, though I’m a bit partial to one handing the Nagakiba and applying the Seppuku Ash of War to it. It’s too satisfying, and really works toward reinforcing that fantasy samurai experience thanks to the class variety in the game.
When Elden Ring is at its best, it's damn good. When it's at its weakest, you really feel it (insert Xenoblade joke here), which leads to discussion on the concept of difficulty. The loop of dying repeatedly until you come out on top (the Souls experience) is both rewarding and frustrating. The reason I say “and” is because of how many boss designs and enemy placements/dungeon designs in the game that are very much jank-feeling.
When it comes to bosses, the general vibe I get is that they’re designed for a game that allows greater freedom of movement than what ER offers the player, while also tending to hit overly hard (bosses like Radahn getting nerfed seems to confirm the latter conclusion). Take the game’s first major boss, for example. Margit has been pretty infamous in the gaming community as a whole for how much of a punch to the face he is for players, both new and old. In addition to having a wealth of moves and seemingly never-ending combos, Margit has the ability to two-shot even those who have gotten to a fairly high level for the very first major castle of the game.
Contrast this with the second major story boss, Godrick, who is about as difficult as how I’d expect Margit ought to be. Clear patterns, reasonable damage inflicted, while still remaining a challenge. But this sense of challenge doesn’t feel consistent. Still other bosses you encounter later such as Rennala and Godfrey end up being complete pushovers, however. You could attribute this to the player’s progression, but if anything, difficulty should scale upward with player progression, not scale sharply downward as the player slowly becomes godlike. While Radahn hit a bit too hard pre-patch 1.03, I’d readily say that that’s one of the game’s high points for boss fights thus far. Good patterns, unique phases, fun gimmicks (gimmicks just meaning interesting mechanics, not strictly a negative term).
Yet this is the main problem I have with this kind of implementation of difficulty (at least within the context of ER). The means of handling the difficulty is generally reduced to encouraging the player to seek out means of overcoming the obstacle with more powerful gear and items rather than through pure skill. The combat systems are far too well-developed to place this kind of control over difficulty in something such as equipment—equipment that is often a bit too easily obtained.
Yes, ER is an RPG. I'm well aware of that. But I'd say more often than not that attempting to blend an open world with the kind of freedom of customization that ER offers ends up defeating the purpose of difficulty existing. Quite honestly, I hesitate to even call ER's difficulty balance a balance at all when so many means of destroying that balance exist within the game, even post-patch 1.03. As someone who’d readily admit my lack of skill with harder games like this, I’m not complaining that those options exist on their own, but I also question their presence when From clearly puts a lot of thought into everything else they’ve put into the game. And this isn’t even considering the presence of spirit summons, which tend to do the same against the intended difficulty.
I briefly mentioned enemy placement/dungeon design as something that doesn’t feel quite right in ER. What I mean by that is how certain layouts and enemy placements feel like a massive frick-you to the player depending on what abilities they possess or build you’re running. Raya Lucaria, for instance, is absolute hell to run through as a melee player because you’re consistently outranged by magic users that pelt you with spells at just the right frequency to essentially stun lock you. Couple that with how obtuse the latter parts of the dungeon’s layout are and you have an experience that’s much more infuriating than it needs to be. And this is just one example. Enemies jumping from behind structures where it’s impossible to see them before you get shanked is another example.
Some bosses and enemy encounters find themselves in areas that directly hinder the player’s ability to make use of the skills they possess rather than genuinely challenging them. Enclosed spaces for more actively moving or noticeably large bosses (the Gael Tunnel Magma Wyrm is a good example of this) don’t introduce difficulty. They’re artificial limitations that do nothing but serve to make the fights annoying rather than hard.
I probably shouldn’t need to clarify, but I will anyway because I’m sure someone will misinterpret my complaints as someone just needing to “git gud,” whatever that means. I have no issue at all with games that present a proper challenge (which ER both does and doesn’t, depending on the situation). But at least give the player a fair shot at applying what they’ve learned and improved on. Enemies/bosses having one-shot attacks when you’re level 80+ isn’t a good example of this. Enemies/bosses having clear patterns to learn and reasonable punishes for sloppy play is a good example of this.
If it seems like I’m speaking out of both sides of my mouth (keyboard? meh) with the game being unfairly hard at times while also being too easily broken, then that sense of confusion or contradiction is exactly how I’ve felt playing ER. It goes back to there not being a sense of balance with the challenge presented.
Moving on to other aspects of ER, I’d say the open world generally doesn’t add much to the overall experience. Yes, the exploration is often rewarding, but it also slows the action down to a crawl and obscures the sense of purpose the player should have in resolving the world’s problems. And, as much as From clearly placed much more thought into the world they created, the inevitable trap of the open world feeling bland or barren after a certain amount of time playing does creep in. Not as strongly as it has for other games in the same open style, but it does regardless. The fact that each of the major regions feature very similar locales (not visually, but functionally) doesn’t help, nor does reuse of multiple bosses help either.
Small note, but visually, the open world impresses. There were definitely moments that were a mild “wow” when I first encountered them. The bridges in the Mountaintops of the Giants being a more recent one.
I’m usually one to appreciate open world gameplay, but if anything, ER had me craving a more linear, tightly-structured experience, honestly. Given that this is From’s first attempt at this kind of overworked, I’m sure they can figure out where to improve and expand on what they’ve started. Or they could just opt to go back to the more linear style of previous Souls games. Their choice, ultimately.
Smaller gripes, but ones that still exist, include the awful camera and technical performance. Frankly, the camera functions like it’s out of a late 2000s PS3/360 game. It is not at all designed well for how the bosses and enemies of the game move, often jumping in random directions to accommodate this kind of movement. On console, there’s also some form of motion blur that just exacerbates the issue.
Performance matters the least, perhaps, but on PS4 it’s surprisingly variable. Rain tanks the FPS below 30 consistently. Not infrequently, but consistently. It’ll just hover in that below-30 range. I hesitate to say it’s ever been a hindrance to gameplay, but for a $60 AAA release, frame rate issues on a game that is hardly the most visually impressive on the console I played it on are a surprise.
Reading back, it seems like my thoughts are overwhelmingly negative for Elden Ring. On the contrary, I’m far more neutral or middle-of-the-road, so to speak. The positives and negatives somewhat balance out for me to consider the game decently good, but nothing spectacular. If others are blown away by it, more power to them. I question whether the hype has led to more positive response to the game than it deserves, but it’s not my place to say whether or not hype or reception is misplaced. I can only speak for myself.
I just didn’t have that same experience, and am left in the latter part of the game wondering if I want to continue. The moment many have seemed to experience where the game “clicks” never came along for me. I never found that stride where I couldn’t get enough of the Lands Between and what they had to offer. For now at least, I’m shelving the game and seeing if I ever find the itch to go back and continue, but I hope my perspective at least offers a bit of variety from the usual extremes of overly positive and irrationally negative. I have no bone to pick with From, nor will I sing their praises. Elden Ring’s good, but that’s the most that I can say for it based on my experiences thus far.
Ghost of Tsushima
2020
appropriate in many ways as the apex of open world game design this generation, hysterical in others. on the one hand it's one of the blandest and most by the numbers maps i've ever seen. on the other hand the crux of the narrative revolves around the main character making the hard choice to do stealth kills instead of "Go Loud." sadly the latter aspect isn't funny enough to carry it
Nuclear Throne
2015
Issac but for people who fuck