An ocean as shallow as a puddle.

Dave the Diver is a game that seems to want to do literally everything that came to the developer's minds. There is a bunch of random nonsensical minigames throughout the game, as well as hundreds and hundreds of unique mechanics to interact with. This sounds like it could be a good thing, however every single mechanic suffers due to this design decision. No part of the game feels fully realized, Even the two big parts, the diving and the restaurant management, feel half baked. The gameplay loop suffers in a big way because of this.

That all being said, the game is fun, in a very simple way. The issue I have is that because of how shallow every mechanic is, this game would be much better suited as a 5-10 hour game. I rolled credits and dropped the game, and that was at the 33 hour mark. That is far too long for a game as shallow as this.

Dave the Diver also violently disrespects your time. The game may be 30 hours long, but it could have been much shorter with some very basic pacing tweaks. Pretty much after every single crumb of progress in the story, no matter how small and insignificant, the game makes you come back to the surface. This includes the part of the game where you're diving in the depths, forcing you to dive all the way down to the bottom of the ocean every time something minor happens in the story.

The game also treats the player like they're incompetent, with Dave basically narrating every little thing that happens.

While I had fun for the first 15 hours or so of the game, all of these things put together soured the experience by the end.

Many other reviewers say that this game outstays its welcome, and they're right.

Ever since it's release, Divinity Original Sin 2 has been hailed as one of the best western RPGs in recent memory, the highlight of the CRPG resurgence, and is subject to such widespread fondness that it's developers got handed the keys to make an actual Baldur's Gate 3. Which has always flummoxed me, because I played this game at launch and fucking hated it.

A degree of this is that me and the game simply have different priorities. When it comes to a game like this, I want to create a character, a person to embody, rather than being handed one of the DMs shitty edgy OCs to play as, but DOS2 disagrees, and will in fact offer a fairly substantially lesser experience (losing access to multiple sidequests and altering a number of key scenes for the worse) if you don't pick one of it's stable of interminable snarky edgelords. I know that for a lot of people, not having to make a character is actually a plus (i remember all those thinkpieces positing Geralt as proof that player-created characters should be a thing of the past) so you may not find this as immediately distasteful as I did, but I'd expect more people to agree that this game is terribly written.

Every single character in this game feels like someone's edgy OC, but not in an endearing way. There's zero earnestness here, no honest investment in this world or belief that what is happening matters, just a bunch of archly smug edgelords quipping at each other, like a cut of Drakengard directed by Joss Whedon. Lohse was the only character I had any fondness for, and even she has a bizarre edgy streak that feels totally incongruous. These eminently hateable assholes will bring up a theme, float an idea, and then stick their tongue firmly in their cheek and laugh at you for wanting to engage the idea in any meaningful way.

The thing about this game that made me angry was how it brought up incredibly heavy source material on a whim (the first act of the game is you escaping what is essentially a concentration camp and genocide is a major part of the backstory) but utterly refused to engage with it on any level beyond a Redditor smugly correcting the grammar of a post detailing the very real atrocities that exist in our world. It leverages these things purely aesthetically, draping itself in a cloak of the most rancid vibes imaginable. If you're the kind of person who writes entries on TV Tropes about "deconstruction" you probably think it's genius.

CRPGs like this have been described as digital dungeon masters, creating a virtual tabletop space that reveals it's character through what aspect of the experience it chooses to focus on. Icewind Dale focused on pure combat and dungeon delving, Baldur's Gate on the charmingly amateurish emulation of epic fantasy, and Divinity Original Sin 2 focuses on all the ugliest, most cynical, and rotten tropes and expectations that players of fantasy RPGs have come to expect. If it's a dungeon master, it's the kind of guy who describes a field of brutally massacred gnomes while lighting up a blunt.

Oh, but what about dat combat though? Yeah, it's ok. There's fun to be had in throwing a barrel of oil to set on fire, or throwing a barrel of water to electrocute, or teleporting someone far away from you, but thanks to inflated health pools and interminable turn times, all the "creative solutions" that this game's passionate fanbase eulogise about eventually yield to much more standard and predictable turn-based combat with a truly obscene level curve that drags out every single fight to absurd lengths. And even this is being generous, as after the (admittedly, genuinely good) first act the quality of encounters begins to tumble down a cliff before practically giving up entirely by Act Three. I'll fully admit that I turned the game down to easy by that point because I just wanted this obscenely drawn-out overlong game done with already. These people were going to make a tactics game??? Thank god we were spared that reality.

Oh, but it's got co-op! That's fun, that's unique! Yeah, it is, but if you think I'm going to play a story-driven Role Playing Game where only the person who clicked on a character first is allowed to have any input in the story whatsoever, you must have confused me for someone who thinks Travis McElroy's Adventure Zone is good. Co-op was definitely the most fun I had playing this, but at the same time, it did make a game that was already long, slow, and drawn-out even longer, slower, and more drawn-out, a bit like this review.

The version of this game I played was the pre-definitive edition version, so this may not be reflective of the game as it is now, but the game was already receiving comically overblown praise even before that update, so clearly I'm missing something greater than was added there. Still, my impression of the game was certainly not helped by a final act so unfinished it verged on parody, which culminated in endings that would have grated enough for their abruptness, adolescent nihilism and fascist apologia if they actually Worked. Instead every time I picked an option it gave me a different one and I had to go through each one until it actually gave me the one I wanted, at which point the game called me a fucking idiot for not comitting genocide. 93 on Metacritic.

Most of the time when I don't line up with the wider consensus on a game, I at least understand why people thought that way. I cannot understand why anyone who finished this game left with positive feelings. By the time I finished it, any positive feelings I had about this game were an easy 60 hours behind me. A complete trainwreck on every conceivable level.

This is what y'all played instead of Tyranny? shake my damn head

all that being said the sex scene is so hilariously terrible that it's maybe worth playing just for that so five stars best CRPG of the renaissance

Wish I could visit Guild Wars before it became Graveyard Wars. Often I hear these praises thrown at MMOs along the lines of not having to deal with randoms stealing your mobs or loot, pk-ing or griefing you out in the world; more lonely experiences that allegedly combine the best of single and multiplayer titles. And here I sit, twiddling my thumbs, longing for that asshole side of the genre, considering resubbing to Blizzard's giant but then remembering I'm not completely lobotomized. There could be hundreds, thousands of people playing Guild Wars at any given time, but you wouldn't know since they're locked in their own worlds, these sprawling instances, possibly having the time of their lives. My experience for the most part was akin to playing a Diablo game, except for occasionally being reminded of it being online and of my grubby east European roots by my character timeshifting, afflicted by the higher ping hex. But the game's damn fine and I can certainly see the praises, for the time especially. Classes are fun as fuck and experimenting seemed fun; creators genuinely nailed some of the fantasies like the necromancer being great at raising dead servants as well as peeling others' skins, making one wonder how this practice is approved of in the world of Tyria. Considering that you are able to recruit companions on top of having these summoned skellies, I didn't so much have a party as much as a fucking army. But combat is sadly all you can do in this, no profession leveling, nada.

To say that Guild Wars was a completely asocial affair would be a lie though. I couldn't experience its namesake and I'm not sure you can anymore, but the arenas were also empty 24/7, meaning I never got to see the lauded PvP side (maybe at max level?). It was still a pleasant surprise that people would whisper me in hub zones to do missions together. Coop makes it so much more fun and the community is genuinely friendly. Back in the tutorial zone I actually forced myself to look for players to help me clear high level mobs at the gates, something that isn't associated with any quests or necessary in any way. To my shock, a person in guild chat responded straight away that they'll be bringing their alt to help in a few minutes. The pre-searing area of GW is one of the comfiest zones ever and some players even have alts that simply never leave it, never advancing the story that ravages this peaceful land akin to WoW's Cataclysm that came 5 years later. They reach max level with these characters in just the tutorial world, a dedicated grind all for the purpose of helping the newbie community and bragging rights I suppose for that sweet cheevo. Clearing these dumbass charr alone at such a low level is suicide, but proved easy with just a duo. Guild Wars is still a fun time and playing it with others makes one forget about the loneliness of the instanced world.

I did make one mistake when I asked this helpful person what they think of Guild Wars 2 and if maybe it would be worth playing over the original. Their personality did a 180° switch, as what I can only assume was some deep rooted PTSD and hatred I wasn't aware of. They proceeded to curse at me in 5 different languages, after which I got DDoS-ed and repeatedly doxed. It came as a slight surprise that I woke up one day to find my family murdered by an unknown assailant - blasted fool forgot I took monk as my secondary so I rezed them up without a hitch.

Great to play and way too difficult to beat. I liked the horror elements, few games just make you feel worried in a fun way like this. Actual survival horror.

Too bad about the difficulty just being turned up beyond my enjoyability level.

6/10

"Worries go down better with soup than without it." This is a Yiddish proverb. I am told, at least; my relationship with Jewish culture is a little messy. But I think of this saying often. Soup holds a kind of venerated position in Ashkenazi cuisine. Kreplach, matzo balls, mushroom barley, all that. It’s a staple. My dad, who provides my Jewish half, ironically, doesn’t enjoy soup much. He finds it boring. But the simplicity of a good soup is often it’s appeal. When we say “soup”, what do you think of? There are cold gazpachos and hot and sours, of course, but I think most of the time we think of hot, salty broth. The soup is clear but heavy, simple but filling. Soup is a potent food when it comes to meaning; it immediately conjures care, home, nourishment, warmth. Soup is hot, soothing, healing. Bad times with soup are better than bad times without soup.

In Below, knowing how to make a good soup is essential. After all, it is a game filled with worries. Soup will save your life. Each time you make it to a campfire, you get the chance make more soup, something that will carry you further into the depths. I won’t go as far as to say that the campfire feels like home. It, like your own little character’s life, is fleeting, and trapped in a dungeon. You constantly grow hungrier, thirstier, colder; you are creature of temperature and appetite, and you must abide by your bodily needs. That decay is a constant that defines Below. While you may know where the next campfire lies, you never know what lies between you and it. You have to be weary of each step and prepared for each sword swing. But for a moment, when you’re next to the fire, you can stop, breathe and nourish yourself. The campfire is an opportunity to replenish your supplies. To take a breather. To warm your bones. To make more soup.

There is a tragedy to Below's legacy. Generally, folks have seemed to be either underwhelmed and annoyed with it. It had been in development for over 5 years, announced during the bright and hot summer at E3 2013, and it was released in the cold winter nights of 2018. As it lead up to release, I got the creeping sensation that it was going to flop. And I think I was right. In an interview with Newsweek, Kris Piotrowski (Creative Director at Capybara Games) said “It's very important for there to be some people who make something very specific. And maybe you're not going to like this. But somebody else will fucking love it.” I think it is pretty clear that it will be divisive from it’s first moments: the first thing you see in the game is a long, slow zoom on a single little ship in the ocean, for several minutes. For me, I adored every moment of this crawl, but I think others will immediately shut the game off.

I’ll call it an unsung masterpiece for a specific reason: there are underrated masterpieces out there that I love a lot, but Below doesn’t even really have a ride-or-die fanbase. It released to tepid praise and hasn’t had a second wind. Part of the issue is that Below lacks a lot of character. That’s not to say it is not impressive. It is visually stunning to look at: the tilt shifted camera, the muted tones, the geometric geography and architecture. And the sound design is some of the best I’ve encountered in I think maybe any game. No, the issue isn’t a lack of presentation, but a lack of flair. There are so few discernable qualities. There aren’t any memorable characters, no flashy boss battles, no unique settings. Even mechanically, there is little that stands out about Below. I can give you the high level pitch, of course: it’s a procedural death labyrinth with survival elements. But will that pitch actually sell anyone on the game? I doubt it.

Which is a shame, because despite that lack of character, Below is expertly crafted and pretty beautiful.

If I had to use one word to describe Below, it would be “dread”. Every single surface of this game is covered in dread. Each sound, each inch of dirt is both beautiful and eerie in the same breath. Below’s environment is incredibly dark, often necessitating the use of a torch or the lantern. The game is set to a distance from your player character that dwarfs them; there’s this tilt-shift effect that makes everything seem minuscule. I found myself hunching over (more than usual) to squint at the darkness surrounding me. Shadows cast against the floor, the glowing eyes of beasts, prey in your periphery. The soundtrack by Jim Guthrie often sounds less like music and more like the groans of the earth itself. And if it’s not an ominous hum, it’s a somber, thoughtful ambiance, the wind brushing through the grass and the waves crashing on the shore. Sounds echo through the caves, scrapes of stones and trickles of water, the chitters and growls of something hunting you. You crawl into dark, terrible and ancient sepulchers, lined with death and sorrow. The distant scrapes and dark corridors become a canvas on which to paint your deepest fears.

Every time you die, you hear this sound. It’s a strange, sinister bellow, a deathly horn. And when you respawn, a new wanderer drifting onto that same rainy shore? That same haunting bellow sounds. As if to say, “This will happen again.”

Below is a difficult game. At times to a fault; there are a few death traps in there that are genuinely cruel. You’ll die a lot, and it’s a big part of the experience. You play not as a single adventurer, but dozens of them. Each death is final, and you play as a successor to the poor doomed soul who met their end in the caverns below. Below is an incredibly slow kind of difficulty. Combat is a deliberate, punishing affair. Sprinting through a room will often lead to a swift death. Your inventory space, too, is incredibly limited. You have sixteen slots for food and sixteen for materials. Personally, I am an inventory hoarder. I will maximize the use of every pound I can carry. But Below, in its limitations, has liberated me from this curse by forcing me to get rid of anything I truly don’t need. Any slot with an unneeded stick or stone is taking up space that could be taken by arrows or bandages. Be careful what you pack. Often you may die because you didn’t have enough materials on hand. Many deaths are deaths by attrition. Many players, I imagine, are going to feel these deaths are overly punishing. I certainly did, at times. But I also recognized that it was core to what the game was doing. It is an easy mistake, I think, to assume Below would be better if it wasn’t a Roguelite. There are lots of games like that nowadays, where the proc-gen structure seems more to be a mechanic on a dart board rather than a deliberate choice. But Below, really, can only be a Roguelite. Because structurally, it isn’t about beating the game. Having to delve even deeper with each death just to make progress can be intimidating. You’ll often lose a lot of materials, too. You can find your body with its wares still on it, now only a dry skeleton. How long has it been? Months? Years? I couldn’t say. But only take what you need.

At its most tense, Below’s dungeon crawling is either a desperate sprint or desperate struggle. On certain floors, you’ll sprint like your life depends on it, because it quite literally does. At the same time, you’ll have to be careful to dodge attacks or not to trigger any traps. So these marathons begin to ebb and flow from trepidation to a frantic sprint. At other times, Below puts you up against the wall. You feel surrounded, outmatched, overwhelmed. I wanted to flail in retaliation like a wild animal had leaped up against me, please, God, anything to get this thing away from me. But you have to be patient. Put up your shield. Wait to parry. Dodge their attacks. At these times, you need to be careful and patient, but also keep moving. Your hunger and thirst aren’t going to slow down. No matter which of these modes you end up playing in at a given time, Below’s most suspenseful moments are at the middle of a tug of war between a need to rush and a need to be as careful as possible. There is a specific area in the game (Floor 14 onwards, for those who know the game) that is genuinely one of the most dreadful levels in any game I’ve ever played; every single time I step foot in that place, my heart starts pounding, a frantic and desperate crawl through the darkness, pulled between the tension of needing to go slowly but needing to go faster. It’s dreadful. But I persevere. I make it through. Eventually.

Success in Below is not overcoming a mountain. It is about going deep down. There is no dragon in Below. No corrupt king, no great sea serpent, no devils or demons. There is nothing here for you to conquer. There are maybe one or two things I would call “boss battles”, but the biggest obstacles in Below are impossible to even scathe. Below is not a game about accomplishment. It’s a game about mastery. The game teaches you almost nothing about how to play; most mechanics have to be discovered by the players. And if you make it far enough, you begin to realize the goal is not descent, but the collection of these items called shards you discover with your lantern. And suddenly, it clicks into place. Succeeding in Below does not come from a single fell swoop, but a series of knicks. It comes from a series of successive runs. You stand on the shoulders of a thousand dead wanderers who you will join soon enough. By the later hours of Below, your player character(s) will not become any stronger. But you have learned so much. You know where to find the materials to make bombs, or how to make bandages, or how to get to the deepest pits of the island in only a few minutes. You begin to realize that you actually don’t lose much with each death. Sure, you might lose a hefty sum of crystals, or a stockpile of arrows and bandages, or a piece of gear you were saving, but there are ample ways to farm materials, and you can always find that gear again. Your goal is not to descend deeper, but to collect these shards with your lantern. And acquiring those shards is far less about slaughtering and spelunking, and more about knowing and understanding the cave systems of this island. You gain mastery, gain an understanding, of the world of Below. You find comfort in the little rituals you develop, of going and gathering picking supplies and hunting for materials, of making soup. It is a game about, despite all the insurmountable dread, finding a way forward anyway.

Again, there’s little I can say that will sell you on Below. There’s no big twist or hook to pull you in. It is just a nearly-perfectly designed game. Like a good soup, Below doesn’t look like much on the outside. But it’s a product of profound craftsmanship. It’s a stew of mechanics which compliment eachother precisely, a perfectly balanced mixture. And maybe once you’ve taken a spoonful, you’ll find that you think it’s a little boring. But give it time, pay close attention to it, understand it’s balance, and you might find that it grows on you, and you can recognize it as a rich and masterfully made experience.

Disclaimer: FUCK JKR - TRANS LIVES MATTER

This game fulfilled many dreams of what an open world game set in the world of Harry Potter would be. Of course it's not perfect, but all the different spells, the combat(!), the graphics, music, and general gameplay were very gratifying and had me excited to play every time I stepped away from the game. The story / characters weren't amazing and the inability to fully role play and choose my characters personality was frustrating considering you're given some differing choices, however your character would then revert back to their polite kind selves if no choice was given 1 minute later.
Overall I had a lot of fun and it's definitely up there with the must play open world games of this generation.

Only played for a couple of hours with pals, dipping in and out for a steam refund. I've enjoyed crafting and survival games so I get the overall appeal, but after two hours we just felt kind of exhausted. It was an endless grind of fishing to scrape together enough food not to starve, hovering between three water purifiers trying to manage thirst, and then shoveling plastic out of the sea of garbage to build another fishing rod. Things that ought to be fun, like exploring unknown islands, instead felt tense and frustrating as we staggered around, famished, and got eaten by sharks on the way back to the raft. Even as we started to get on top of the resource game, there was still no view to automating anything. Progress would be hours and hours of necessary chores, with only a much smaller amount of time and resources available for luxuries like building a bigger raft or 'having fun'.

Maybe it's better single player (or just without five people crowded onto one 2x2 raft), or maybe it evens out later on.

There was one transcendental moment of humour in the game. We were adrift at sea, trying desperately to boil salt water so that we could get something to drink, watching our raft get swallowed up piece by piece by a shark, and then my friend announced "I've built a research table". Ah, perfect. We might be starving to death, but at least the march of science continues.