MensRea96
BACKER
2023
Starfield’s reception is interesting, at the very least. As someone who’s generally right down the middle when it comes to BGS’s output, my expectations for the game weren’t particularly high. I try my best not to be overly cynical, so I guess my expectations would have been best characterized as “cautiously optimistic.” The space setting offers a lot of potential. With games like Breath of the Wild and Tears of the Kingdom showing how great games can be built (in part) off the back of engaging traversal mechanics, the shift to space and the technology that comes with it had the potential to solve one of my biggest issues with BGS RPGs: frequently boring, meandering traversal. On the other hand, while I’ve always thought BGS’s worldbuilding to be one of its strong points, I was doubtful that what BGS would come up with would rival Fallout or the Elder Scrolls: two of the best settings in the medium. And as for the rest of the game… I was expecting more or less a continuation of Fallout 4/76: with the focus being improving the “action” side of the action-RPG that is the modern Bethesda framework, along with expanding the crafting and settlement-building systems.
What we got with Starfield, for better and for worse, is not quite that. Interestingly, the game focuses on questing: in particular, its faction questlines. And you know what? The faction questlines are… pretty good. Easily a step above what was on offer in Skyrim or Fallout 4, and even beyond Oblivion, in my opinion. From a writing standpoint, each faction at the very least contributes nicely to the worldbuilding. Narratively the quality varies between factions, but they’re all at least competently structured and feature some interesting role-playing choices (which, again, vary in quality between factions, but I digress). Well, there is one exception to my commentary on the faction questlines: the main quest, which is a faction questline of sorts. It has its moments, especially towards the end, but if I’m keeping it a buck… I don’t really like Constellation. I think the narrative of “Starfield gets good after X hours” is actually kind of valid because “X hours” is probably when the social media-poster in question completed or veered away from the main quest to do the factions.
Starfield also makes some notable gameplay improvements over previous BGS titles. Compared to Fallout 4, the gunplay is improved, general gamefeel and responsiveness are improved, and the lockpicking/hacking minigame is changed to something actually mildly engaging (and thankfully not another re-use of the mind-numbing Fallout 3 minigames). Dialogue is also improved, as it no longer follows the same predictable structure of Fallout 4’s, there’s more frequent opportunities to roleplay, and the “persuasion” minigame is, well, better than Oblivion’s, at the very least.
All of that being said, there is a significant drawback to Starfield compared to its BGS predecessors: that is, diminished potential for player-driven exploration and emergent gameplay, which is largely a consequence of the “open world” typical of BGS games being broken up into various hubs, settlements, etc., strewn about Starfield’s many planets. Most planets in Starfield are not hand-crafted, but rather feature environments and quests that procedurally generate around wherever the player chooses to land their ship. So, for players (like myself) that don’t care for the procedurally generated content, the vast majority of planets in Starfield may as well not exist. And the consequences of taking what is likely a Skyrim/Fallout 4-sized map of hand-crafted content and splitting it between planets are mixed. On one hand, there is an abstract sense of scale that comes with that design decision. However, the sense of scale is greatly limited by the unfortunate fact that traversing space is something largely done by fast-travel rather than piloting a spaceship. The player’s ship is instead more of a basecamp that’s occasionally used in gameplay segments constrained to planetary orbits.
To be honest, though… I don’t really mind Starfield’s hand-crafted content being divided between its planets. And the reason I feel that way is because, in my opinion, exploration in BGS games is overrated. As I’ve already said, from a gameplay standpoint at least, traversal in BGS games is frequently boring. Additionally, a large number of locations in, for example, Skyrim are essentially vessels for that game’s randomly generated quests, meaning that a substantial portion of its map is filler that the player might walk up to so as to enable future fast travel, but likely not otherwise engage with. This ties into the topic of Skyrim/Fallout 4's quasi-MMO structure, where you're typically expected to first interact with factions to get quests, which then make dungeon crawling and other activities more meaningful (a huge design choice that, in my opinion, is suboptimal for a supposedly exploration-oriented experience). I won’t elaborate further on this as I’m reviewing Starfield, not Skyrim or Fallout 4, but I would wager that a majority of players in those games tend to just fast-travel between major settlements anyway: meaning that the impact of Starfield’s splitting of the map may be overstated by some critics.
However, I can see why some players who perhaps approach these games less procedurally than I do would be frustrated by Bethesda’s decision here. It’s undeniable that there is a certain appeal to just roaming around a more hand-crafted map and stumbling onto bits of gameplay. To be fair, Starfield’s hand-crafted locations do afford some of that experience, but that experience is less of a focus this time around, to the dismay of some. In fact, I think the backlash to this game is largely fueled by this kind of player, rather than the typical “New Vegas good, Fallout 3/4 bad” Bethesda hater.
To me, Starfield is more or less on par with BGS’s output from the previous decade. In fact, as contrarian as this probably sounds, I may very well like this game more than Skyrim or Fallout 4. Sure, there is a certain appeal that those games have that this one doesn’t, but Starfield is overall better in the ways that matter most to me. I’ve always felt that I would prefer Oblivion/Fallout 3 to Skyrim/Fallout 4 if the former games weren’t plagued by comparatively poor design decisions (among other things) and, well, Starfield is kind of like Oblivion if it was in space and also less bad. That’s a reductive comparison, apologies. Also, this probably seems odd, but Starfield's jetpack probably bumps the game up like 5 percentage points for me. I'm a sucker for fun movement options, what can I say. [EDIT: In retrospect, I would probably rank Skyrim above Starfield. Skyrim is a case of "greater than the sum of its parts" for me, which I think is largely a consequence of its soundtrack, ambiance, and overall aesthetic being exceptional. But I digress].
Before I conclude, one final aside: while Starfield's setting is expectedly a downgrade from TES and Fallout, it's at least competent unlike that of, say, The Outer Worlds. Not super engrossing or anything, I just mildly enjoyed the worldbuild and general aesthetic. And Skyrim/Falllout 4 didn't come close to fully utilizing those settings' potential anyway, so perhaps the drawback of Starfield's setting is not as significant as it maybe should be in theory.
To some extent, I feel bad for Bethesda. I mean, they’re owned by Microsoft so they’ll always be fine financially, but Starfield in my opinion represents an honest response to criticism. People famously (and annoyingly) said that “Fallout 4 is a good game but a bad Fallout game” (most of whom, I'd wager, never actually played Fallout 1 or 2, but I digress), so BGS made an effort to improve role-playing and quest design. And they succeeded… somewhat. Good for me, I guess.
44/100.
What we got with Starfield, for better and for worse, is not quite that. Interestingly, the game focuses on questing: in particular, its faction questlines. And you know what? The faction questlines are… pretty good. Easily a step above what was on offer in Skyrim or Fallout 4, and even beyond Oblivion, in my opinion. From a writing standpoint, each faction at the very least contributes nicely to the worldbuilding. Narratively the quality varies between factions, but they’re all at least competently structured and feature some interesting role-playing choices (which, again, vary in quality between factions, but I digress). Well, there is one exception to my commentary on the faction questlines: the main quest, which is a faction questline of sorts. It has its moments, especially towards the end, but if I’m keeping it a buck… I don’t really like Constellation. I think the narrative of “Starfield gets good after X hours” is actually kind of valid because “X hours” is probably when the social media-poster in question completed or veered away from the main quest to do the factions.
Starfield also makes some notable gameplay improvements over previous BGS titles. Compared to Fallout 4, the gunplay is improved, general gamefeel and responsiveness are improved, and the lockpicking/hacking minigame is changed to something actually mildly engaging (and thankfully not another re-use of the mind-numbing Fallout 3 minigames). Dialogue is also improved, as it no longer follows the same predictable structure of Fallout 4’s, there’s more frequent opportunities to roleplay, and the “persuasion” minigame is, well, better than Oblivion’s, at the very least.
All of that being said, there is a significant drawback to Starfield compared to its BGS predecessors: that is, diminished potential for player-driven exploration and emergent gameplay, which is largely a consequence of the “open world” typical of BGS games being broken up into various hubs, settlements, etc., strewn about Starfield’s many planets. Most planets in Starfield are not hand-crafted, but rather feature environments and quests that procedurally generate around wherever the player chooses to land their ship. So, for players (like myself) that don’t care for the procedurally generated content, the vast majority of planets in Starfield may as well not exist. And the consequences of taking what is likely a Skyrim/Fallout 4-sized map of hand-crafted content and splitting it between planets are mixed. On one hand, there is an abstract sense of scale that comes with that design decision. However, the sense of scale is greatly limited by the unfortunate fact that traversing space is something largely done by fast-travel rather than piloting a spaceship. The player’s ship is instead more of a basecamp that’s occasionally used in gameplay segments constrained to planetary orbits.
To be honest, though… I don’t really mind Starfield’s hand-crafted content being divided between its planets. And the reason I feel that way is because, in my opinion, exploration in BGS games is overrated. As I’ve already said, from a gameplay standpoint at least, traversal in BGS games is frequently boring. Additionally, a large number of locations in, for example, Skyrim are essentially vessels for that game’s randomly generated quests, meaning that a substantial portion of its map is filler that the player might walk up to so as to enable future fast travel, but likely not otherwise engage with. This ties into the topic of Skyrim/Fallout 4's quasi-MMO structure, where you're typically expected to first interact with factions to get quests, which then make dungeon crawling and other activities more meaningful (a huge design choice that, in my opinion, is suboptimal for a supposedly exploration-oriented experience). I won’t elaborate further on this as I’m reviewing Starfield, not Skyrim or Fallout 4, but I would wager that a majority of players in those games tend to just fast-travel between major settlements anyway: meaning that the impact of Starfield’s splitting of the map may be overstated by some critics.
However, I can see why some players who perhaps approach these games less procedurally than I do would be frustrated by Bethesda’s decision here. It’s undeniable that there is a certain appeal to just roaming around a more hand-crafted map and stumbling onto bits of gameplay. To be fair, Starfield’s hand-crafted locations do afford some of that experience, but that experience is less of a focus this time around, to the dismay of some. In fact, I think the backlash to this game is largely fueled by this kind of player, rather than the typical “New Vegas good, Fallout 3/4 bad” Bethesda hater.
To me, Starfield is more or less on par with BGS’s output from the previous decade. In fact, as contrarian as this probably sounds, I may very well like this game more than Skyrim or Fallout 4. Sure, there is a certain appeal that those games have that this one doesn’t, but Starfield is overall better in the ways that matter most to me. I’ve always felt that I would prefer Oblivion/Fallout 3 to Skyrim/Fallout 4 if the former games weren’t plagued by comparatively poor design decisions (among other things) and, well, Starfield is kind of like Oblivion if it was in space and also less bad. That’s a reductive comparison, apologies. Also, this probably seems odd, but Starfield's jetpack probably bumps the game up like 5 percentage points for me. I'm a sucker for fun movement options, what can I say. [EDIT: In retrospect, I would probably rank Skyrim above Starfield. Skyrim is a case of "greater than the sum of its parts" for me, which I think is largely a consequence of its soundtrack, ambiance, and overall aesthetic being exceptional. But I digress].
Before I conclude, one final aside: while Starfield's setting is expectedly a downgrade from TES and Fallout, it's at least competent unlike that of, say, The Outer Worlds. Not super engrossing or anything, I just mildly enjoyed the worldbuild and general aesthetic. And Skyrim/Falllout 4 didn't come close to fully utilizing those settings' potential anyway, so perhaps the drawback of Starfield's setting is not as significant as it maybe should be in theory.
To some extent, I feel bad for Bethesda. I mean, they’re owned by Microsoft so they’ll always be fine financially, but Starfield in my opinion represents an honest response to criticism. People famously (and annoyingly) said that “Fallout 4 is a good game but a bad Fallout game” (most of whom, I'd wager, never actually played Fallout 1 or 2, but I digress), so BGS made an effort to improve role-playing and quest design. And they succeeded… somewhat. Good for me, I guess.
44/100.
The trajectory of Skyward Sword’s reputation is remarkable. I don’t think a single game in the franchise has had such a drastic negative shift in public opinion. Just check Metacritic: the original has a respectable 93, while the remaster, which is almost certainly an objective improvement, has a mere 81 average. I have my theories as to why this is, which I will get into later, but it would be revisionist to claim that back in 2011 this game wasn’t revered like the other 3D Zelda games. In fact, the critical consensus at the time was clearly on board with Skyward Sword’s direction. But now, the game is the most common pick for the worst 3D Zelda game–maybe even the worst Zelda game period if it wasn’t for Zelda II. But is that valid? Well, the average quality of this franchise’s games is so high that you could just about justify saying any of them is “the worst,” and Skyward Sword certainly isn’t my favorite. However, with the changes made by this HD remaster, I actually think it’s a pretty great game that’s fallen victim to common narratives about motion controls and the Zelda franchise at large.
Once upon a time, Zelda’s overworld and dungeon design largely conformed to (apologies in advance for using the “M” word) Metroidvania design principles. Specifically, in A Link to the Past, save for few story-related bottlenecks, progression through the overworld and dungeons was entirely contingent on the items Link possessed (which is the main reason why the game is so well suited to randomizers). However, as the franchise moved forward, progression, in the overworld at least, became less about items and more about story. For example, in Twilight Princess, accessing new major areas of Hyrule was entirely contingent on story progress (with sections of the map having to be cleared of their “twilight” before proper entry). And even that game’s dungeons, which still sort of conformed to the Metroidvania framework, were much more “linear” in the sense that progression was less ambiguous and required less backtracking. I don’t mean to imply that what I’ve alleged about Twilight Princess is bad, per se. I’m just pointing out a change of direction in this series re: progression.
And it’s a significant change. You see, Zelda has never really been about intricate, one-off puzzles. Rather, Zelda games of old can be seen as one big “puzzle” of sorts, where Link’s traversal and combat capabilities continually evolve, allowing for deeper and deeper progression (hence, the “M” word). The series evolved to feature more involved tests of spatial reasoning (e.g., Eagle’s Tower in Link’s Awakening), which naturally received greater emphasis when the series jumped to 3D (e.g., Snowhead Temple in Majora’s Mask). But Link’s Awakening, Ocarina of Time, and Majora’s Mask, while inarguably more “linear” than their predecessors (though less “linear” than some may think), are still games where player satisfaction is largely grounded in untying the metaphorical knot that is those games’ overworlds, with the same kind of thing on a smaller scale in those games’ dungeons. While The Wind Waker and Twilight Princess do maintain this somewhat, progression in those two games is less player-driven (with the exception of The Wind Waker’s Triforce quest, which is highly player-driven).
Before we get to the game I’m supposed to be writing about, one more topic: combat. Specifically, 3D Zelda combat. In retrospect, it’s easy to compare the style of combat first appearing (in this series, at least) in Ocarina of Time to (apologies in advance for using the “S” word) Souls combat. And for good reason: both are relatively slow, methodical, melee-oriented combat systems with a targeting system allowing the player to circle-strafe enemies and more easily use ranged attacks. In short, you target an enemy, wait for an opening, and then strike. One downfall of Ocarina of Time compared to Dark Souls is the relative simplicity of combat in the former, making the aforementioned process somewhat boring. Really, Darknuts are the only non-boss enemies in Ocarina of Time that truly engage, but even they pale in comparison to, say, Black Knights in Dark Souls. In short, while the combat of Ocarina of Time/Majora’s Mask was sound, there was clear room for improvement. And that’s fine: neither of those games is as combat-oriented as the Souls “series” has become (see: Elden Ring). But it goes without saying that better combat would make for better games. The Wind Waker incorporated what is essentially a context-specific counterattack “QTE,” and overall improves on the combat of its predecessors, though said improvements are somewhat counterbalanced by low difficulty. Twilight Princess made strides in expanding Link’s moveset, and the application of said moveset has an appreciable level of nuance, but, once again, Darknuts are the only non-boss enemies that truly engage (and, again, low difficulty). In short, from Ocarina of Time to Twilight Princess, you’re not playing 3D Zelda for the combat. And, unfortunately, the next game in the series wouldn’t change that fact, but I’m getting ahead of myself.
Now, with the groundwork set, let’s talk about Skyward Sword. More specifically, the game’s most controversial aspect: its motion controls. For better and for worse, Nintendo often follows the idiom “in for a penny, in for a pound” when it comes to gimmicks in their games. For example, the intent to fully utilize DS hardware resulted in both Phantom Hourglass’s great touch controls and Spirit Track’s obnoxious use of the DS’s microphone. It’s largely the same story with Skyward Sword. On one hand, motion’s implementation makes ranged items’ use more intuitive and satisfying than ever while, on the other hand, motion-controlled flight and swimming can be frustrating, to say the least.
And then there’s the matter of Skyward Sword’s combat, as previously alluded to. Put simply… it’s a mixed bag. Essentially, the combat follows the template from the previous games. You lock on to individual enemies, you wait for an opening, and then you strike. However, here, there’s one critical difference: motion. There’s certainly a kind of visceral satisfaciton that comes with defeating enemies with one-to-one, motion-controlled sword strikes that just cannot exist with a standard gamepad layout. The parry mechanic adds needed depth. And, honestly, Ghirahim and Demise are good fights that demonstrate the positive qualities of Skyward Sword’s combat system. However, said system is far from the true potential of motion-controlled melee combat. The vast majority of enemies (incluidng, to a lesser extent, Ghirahim and Demise) follow a rigid design that requires the player to strike them from a limited number of angles, while punishing players for telegraphing their attacks. This would be just fine if SOME enemies did it, but almost all of them do, leading to detrimental repetition. Further, unlike Metal Gear Rising: Revengeance, where directional attacks are a small part of a larger system featuring appreciably deep combat mechanics, directional attacks ARE Skyward Sword’s combat system, more or less. There’s a parry mechanic, yes, but not much else. Importantly though, compared to Metal Gear Rising, Skyward Sword’s combat is a relatively small part of its identity. So let’s address the rest of the game before concluding.
As I previously explained, Zelda’s core identity from A Link to the Past to Majora’s Mask is unraveling the overworld and dungeons in a Metroidvania-esque fashion. The Wind Waker and Twilight Princess marked a deviation from that, with overworld progression being more so tied to story and dungeon progression being more straightforward. Which brings us to Skyward Sword, which, for better and for worse, is a continuation of that trend. However, there is a shift in design philosophy that I believe gets overlooked. In short, Skyward Sword has what I will call Obstacle Course Level Design,™ which places greater emphasis on Link’s movement and moveset than ever before. Whether in dungeons or the overworld, the level designers consistently challenge the player to thoughtfully use Link’s movement (notably his new, somewhat limited sprinting and climbing capabilities) and items to traverse the environment. This design philosophy leads to a series of engaging, albeit rigid levels. The rigidity (which is part of what people are referring to when they call Skyward Sword “linear”) is not a problem, per se… but it IS a problem when you have to retread levels, as once you’ve solved an area’s traversal puzzle, there’s simply not much to be gained from traversing it again. And, unfortunately, Skyward Sword’s second and third acts do see re-use of levels to the game’s detriment.
In retrospective discussions of Skyward Sword, the game is often framed as diametrically opposed to Breath of the Wild. The former game is supposedly ultra-linear, while the latter is ultra-nonlinear. And while there is some validity to this characterization, in my opinion, those two games have more in common than the comparison implies. Simply, the greater emphasis on Link’s movement and moveset in Skyward Sword is continued in Breath of the Wild, albeit with a different approach. While Skyward Sword grants Link relatively limited movement and places him in rigid, intently designed levels (“obstacle courses”), Breath of the Wild greatly increases Link’s traversal potential and places him in sandboxes, with more linear gameplay segments being largely limited to “Shrines” and dungeons. Both are valid approaches, and if Skyward Sword didn’t commit the sin of re-using levels (among other issues), it’s very possible that I’d prefer it to Breath of the Wild… but I digress.
For one final point of discussion, I’d like to look at one particular aspect of design in Zelda games that I've always appreciated. The games will often introduce a concept, and then iterate/expand on said concept in the immediately following dungeon (and, in some cases, continue to iterate/expand afterward). For example, in Ocarina of Time you were introduced to the hookshot before the Forest Temple, where it saw expanded use and became a natural, reoccurring part of Link's arsenal thereafter. I would argue that the 3D Zelda games that implement this savvy game design best/most extensively are Majora’s Mask (where you’re introduced to transformation masks prior to their extensive use in dungeons), Skyward Sword (where, for example, timeshift stones are heavily featured before each Lanayru dungeon), and Tears of the Kingdom (which features lengthy pre-dungeon segments that introduce key dungeon concepts, such as extensive vehicle traversal with Yunobo prior to the Fire Temple). If it's not clear, I'm a big fan of this, and I hope it becomes a stronger trend in this franchise moving forward.
Ok, one final aside. I like but don’t love Skyward Sword’s general visual aesthetic, and I like but don’t love its soundtrack. And the story is... fine. A step up from Twilight Princess at least, though I don't think Skyward Sword is all that successful at worldbuilding for the franchise (which was supposedly a goal). I could expand on those statements, but this review is already long enough as is, so I won’t.
To conclude: as I’ve said, this modified version of Skyward Sword is honestly pretty great. It’s not my favorite Zelda game, but it’s not markedly worse than the standard set by the other games in this series. So why the hate directed at this game specifically? Well, it’s time for some armchair theorizing about why other people disagree with me: everyone’s favorite internet activity. For one, the shift to non-linear design spearheaded by Breath of the Wild makes it easy to paint Skyward Sword as a relic of game design. This characterization becomes even easier when you consider Skyward Sword’s focus on motion controls, which largely lost the favor of hardcore game-likers by the end of the Wii’s lifecycle (and, let’s be honest, the game’s implementation of motion isn’t universally praiseworthy). And third, there’s a certain YouTube video that has over 10 million (!!) views that trashes the game (poorly, and also trashes Ocarina of Time, poorly). And I think in this day and age, it should surprise no one how much a highly-viewed internet think-piece can influence public opinion: especially the “opinion” of those who haven’t actually played the game being discussed. Anyway, thank you for reading my review.
66/100.
Once upon a time, Zelda’s overworld and dungeon design largely conformed to (apologies in advance for using the “M” word) Metroidvania design principles. Specifically, in A Link to the Past, save for few story-related bottlenecks, progression through the overworld and dungeons was entirely contingent on the items Link possessed (which is the main reason why the game is so well suited to randomizers). However, as the franchise moved forward, progression, in the overworld at least, became less about items and more about story. For example, in Twilight Princess, accessing new major areas of Hyrule was entirely contingent on story progress (with sections of the map having to be cleared of their “twilight” before proper entry). And even that game’s dungeons, which still sort of conformed to the Metroidvania framework, were much more “linear” in the sense that progression was less ambiguous and required less backtracking. I don’t mean to imply that what I’ve alleged about Twilight Princess is bad, per se. I’m just pointing out a change of direction in this series re: progression.
And it’s a significant change. You see, Zelda has never really been about intricate, one-off puzzles. Rather, Zelda games of old can be seen as one big “puzzle” of sorts, where Link’s traversal and combat capabilities continually evolve, allowing for deeper and deeper progression (hence, the “M” word). The series evolved to feature more involved tests of spatial reasoning (e.g., Eagle’s Tower in Link’s Awakening), which naturally received greater emphasis when the series jumped to 3D (e.g., Snowhead Temple in Majora’s Mask). But Link’s Awakening, Ocarina of Time, and Majora’s Mask, while inarguably more “linear” than their predecessors (though less “linear” than some may think), are still games where player satisfaction is largely grounded in untying the metaphorical knot that is those games’ overworlds, with the same kind of thing on a smaller scale in those games’ dungeons. While The Wind Waker and Twilight Princess do maintain this somewhat, progression in those two games is less player-driven (with the exception of The Wind Waker’s Triforce quest, which is highly player-driven).
Before we get to the game I’m supposed to be writing about, one more topic: combat. Specifically, 3D Zelda combat. In retrospect, it’s easy to compare the style of combat first appearing (in this series, at least) in Ocarina of Time to (apologies in advance for using the “S” word) Souls combat. And for good reason: both are relatively slow, methodical, melee-oriented combat systems with a targeting system allowing the player to circle-strafe enemies and more easily use ranged attacks. In short, you target an enemy, wait for an opening, and then strike. One downfall of Ocarina of Time compared to Dark Souls is the relative simplicity of combat in the former, making the aforementioned process somewhat boring. Really, Darknuts are the only non-boss enemies in Ocarina of Time that truly engage, but even they pale in comparison to, say, Black Knights in Dark Souls. In short, while the combat of Ocarina of Time/Majora’s Mask was sound, there was clear room for improvement. And that’s fine: neither of those games is as combat-oriented as the Souls “series” has become (see: Elden Ring). But it goes without saying that better combat would make for better games. The Wind Waker incorporated what is essentially a context-specific counterattack “QTE,” and overall improves on the combat of its predecessors, though said improvements are somewhat counterbalanced by low difficulty. Twilight Princess made strides in expanding Link’s moveset, and the application of said moveset has an appreciable level of nuance, but, once again, Darknuts are the only non-boss enemies that truly engage (and, again, low difficulty). In short, from Ocarina of Time to Twilight Princess, you’re not playing 3D Zelda for the combat. And, unfortunately, the next game in the series wouldn’t change that fact, but I’m getting ahead of myself.
Now, with the groundwork set, let’s talk about Skyward Sword. More specifically, the game’s most controversial aspect: its motion controls. For better and for worse, Nintendo often follows the idiom “in for a penny, in for a pound” when it comes to gimmicks in their games. For example, the intent to fully utilize DS hardware resulted in both Phantom Hourglass’s great touch controls and Spirit Track’s obnoxious use of the DS’s microphone. It’s largely the same story with Skyward Sword. On one hand, motion’s implementation makes ranged items’ use more intuitive and satisfying than ever while, on the other hand, motion-controlled flight and swimming can be frustrating, to say the least.
And then there’s the matter of Skyward Sword’s combat, as previously alluded to. Put simply… it’s a mixed bag. Essentially, the combat follows the template from the previous games. You lock on to individual enemies, you wait for an opening, and then you strike. However, here, there’s one critical difference: motion. There’s certainly a kind of visceral satisfaciton that comes with defeating enemies with one-to-one, motion-controlled sword strikes that just cannot exist with a standard gamepad layout. The parry mechanic adds needed depth. And, honestly, Ghirahim and Demise are good fights that demonstrate the positive qualities of Skyward Sword’s combat system. However, said system is far from the true potential of motion-controlled melee combat. The vast majority of enemies (incluidng, to a lesser extent, Ghirahim and Demise) follow a rigid design that requires the player to strike them from a limited number of angles, while punishing players for telegraphing their attacks. This would be just fine if SOME enemies did it, but almost all of them do, leading to detrimental repetition. Further, unlike Metal Gear Rising: Revengeance, where directional attacks are a small part of a larger system featuring appreciably deep combat mechanics, directional attacks ARE Skyward Sword’s combat system, more or less. There’s a parry mechanic, yes, but not much else. Importantly though, compared to Metal Gear Rising, Skyward Sword’s combat is a relatively small part of its identity. So let’s address the rest of the game before concluding.
As I previously explained, Zelda’s core identity from A Link to the Past to Majora’s Mask is unraveling the overworld and dungeons in a Metroidvania-esque fashion. The Wind Waker and Twilight Princess marked a deviation from that, with overworld progression being more so tied to story and dungeon progression being more straightforward. Which brings us to Skyward Sword, which, for better and for worse, is a continuation of that trend. However, there is a shift in design philosophy that I believe gets overlooked. In short, Skyward Sword has what I will call Obstacle Course Level Design,™ which places greater emphasis on Link’s movement and moveset than ever before. Whether in dungeons or the overworld, the level designers consistently challenge the player to thoughtfully use Link’s movement (notably his new, somewhat limited sprinting and climbing capabilities) and items to traverse the environment. This design philosophy leads to a series of engaging, albeit rigid levels. The rigidity (which is part of what people are referring to when they call Skyward Sword “linear”) is not a problem, per se… but it IS a problem when you have to retread levels, as once you’ve solved an area’s traversal puzzle, there’s simply not much to be gained from traversing it again. And, unfortunately, Skyward Sword’s second and third acts do see re-use of levels to the game’s detriment.
In retrospective discussions of Skyward Sword, the game is often framed as diametrically opposed to Breath of the Wild. The former game is supposedly ultra-linear, while the latter is ultra-nonlinear. And while there is some validity to this characterization, in my opinion, those two games have more in common than the comparison implies. Simply, the greater emphasis on Link’s movement and moveset in Skyward Sword is continued in Breath of the Wild, albeit with a different approach. While Skyward Sword grants Link relatively limited movement and places him in rigid, intently designed levels (“obstacle courses”), Breath of the Wild greatly increases Link’s traversal potential and places him in sandboxes, with more linear gameplay segments being largely limited to “Shrines” and dungeons. Both are valid approaches, and if Skyward Sword didn’t commit the sin of re-using levels (among other issues), it’s very possible that I’d prefer it to Breath of the Wild… but I digress.
For one final point of discussion, I’d like to look at one particular aspect of design in Zelda games that I've always appreciated. The games will often introduce a concept, and then iterate/expand on said concept in the immediately following dungeon (and, in some cases, continue to iterate/expand afterward). For example, in Ocarina of Time you were introduced to the hookshot before the Forest Temple, where it saw expanded use and became a natural, reoccurring part of Link's arsenal thereafter. I would argue that the 3D Zelda games that implement this savvy game design best/most extensively are Majora’s Mask (where you’re introduced to transformation masks prior to their extensive use in dungeons), Skyward Sword (where, for example, timeshift stones are heavily featured before each Lanayru dungeon), and Tears of the Kingdom (which features lengthy pre-dungeon segments that introduce key dungeon concepts, such as extensive vehicle traversal with Yunobo prior to the Fire Temple). If it's not clear, I'm a big fan of this, and I hope it becomes a stronger trend in this franchise moving forward.
Ok, one final aside. I like but don’t love Skyward Sword’s general visual aesthetic, and I like but don’t love its soundtrack. And the story is... fine. A step up from Twilight Princess at least, though I don't think Skyward Sword is all that successful at worldbuilding for the franchise (which was supposedly a goal). I could expand on those statements, but this review is already long enough as is, so I won’t.
To conclude: as I’ve said, this modified version of Skyward Sword is honestly pretty great. It’s not my favorite Zelda game, but it’s not markedly worse than the standard set by the other games in this series. So why the hate directed at this game specifically? Well, it’s time for some armchair theorizing about why other people disagree with me: everyone’s favorite internet activity. For one, the shift to non-linear design spearheaded by Breath of the Wild makes it easy to paint Skyward Sword as a relic of game design. This characterization becomes even easier when you consider Skyward Sword’s focus on motion controls, which largely lost the favor of hardcore game-likers by the end of the Wii’s lifecycle (and, let’s be honest, the game’s implementation of motion isn’t universally praiseworthy). And third, there’s a certain YouTube video that has over 10 million (!!) views that trashes the game (poorly, and also trashes Ocarina of Time, poorly). And I think in this day and age, it should surprise no one how much a highly-viewed internet think-piece can influence public opinion: especially the “opinion” of those who haven’t actually played the game being discussed. Anyway, thank you for reading my review.
66/100.
2022
What frustrates me is that to this day, I don’t think I’ve played a single game in the “open world” genre that I believe to be a true masterpiece: a game that I'm confident I can look back on in 50 years and comfortably call part of The Canon. In other words, unless we construe the genre very liberally, I don’t think a game exists within it that can’t effectively be supplanted by something better in the future. For all of its faults, however, Elden Ring is likely the closest thing to a masterpiece in its genre today. But that’s what’s most frustrating about Elden Ring. It’s a fantastic game on so many levels, but it’s also not exempt from the flaws seemingly universal to its genre.
For starters, following in the footsteps of and ultimately surpassing Breath of the Wild, Elden Ring presents a masterclass of overworld design. The game’s points-of-interest are expertly oriented both geographically and visually, resulting in exploration that’s both seamless and thoroughly compelling. And, unlike Breath of the Wild, there’s enough obscured or otherwise hidden within Elden Ring’s map that overworld gameplay transcends simply being led by the nose down a breadcrumb trail (not that there isn’t more to BotW than that, but I digress). Elden Ring also has the advantage of not being a Switch launch title, so FromSoft could better orient the game’s map around combat difficulty. Generally speaking, combat gets harder as you near the Erdtree, which appropriately serves as a visual anchor for the overworld. The game does a good enough job of signposting difficulty through aesthetics (red hellscape = harder than lush starting area, shocker). And Elden Ring also throws experienced players and challenge runners a bone by letting them outright bypass many early game areas, and even access mid and late-game areas early by acquiring certain items. At its best, Elden Ring sees the player bouncing around between encounters, finding what challenge best suits the player character’s current power level and ultimately overcoming it. Perhaps some players would prefer a more rigid progression, but the above described sort of player-driven exploration and (to an extent) self-imposed difficulty is what drew me to Souls in the first place.
However, as I previously said, Elden Ring still succumbs to universal open world frustrations, primarily seen in its underworld. In short, the game’s smaller dungeons scattered around its map, while not bad or even mediocre, recycle aesthetics and encounters to their detriment. And this recycling bleeds into the overworld as well, with many encounters being repeated around similar points of interest. I understand that there isn’t a realistic way around this given the current realities of gamedev and Elden Ring’s undeniable scale… but it nonetheless hinders immersion and the overall experience. The game’s “Legacy Dungeons,” on the other hand, are fantastic, impressively numerous and blend seamlessly into the overworld. In short, while Elden Ring does contain the sort of detrimental repetition that plagues its genre, it also contains so much high quality content that I frankly don’t even care that much. Simply, Elden Ring would eclipse the vast majority of AAA games on the market even if the frequently repeated content were axed outright.
Before I play a little defense for a commonly criticized part of the game, I’m going to contribute to the dogpiling of an aspect that deserves criticism: Elden Ring’s story. Though, there is an important distinction here that must be made. Elden Ring’s storytelling is great. FromSoft are experts in procedural, environmental storytelling: largely because so much time and effort is put into the lore and worldbuild. For contrast, while I seem to like Tears of the Kingdom more than most self-styled game critics on the internet, it’s undeniable that TotK’s worldbuild is weak, which has the collateral consequence of making satisfying moment-to-moment storytelling through its environment pretty much impossible. And, unfortunately, TotK doesn’t exactly make up for that through its plot. Elden Ring, on the other hand, constantly stimulates the player with lore, character details, aesthetic iterations, etc. as the player works through its environments. It’s often difficult to spend more than a few minutes in Elden Ring without learning more about its world: and what a world it is. However, like TotK, Elden Ring fails in its main narrative (though to a much lesser extent). Simply, while ER presents a conflict between factions over the fate of the Lands Between, with the “factions” largely being represented by a single individual, said individuals’ motivations are vague to a fault. It’s as if George R. R. Martin handed Michael Zaki the blueprint, and Zaki-and-friends figured the worldbuild and general intrigue would be enough to meet fan expectations. And, honestly, they were right… but it doesn’t change the fact that a properly fleshed out story would likely elevate Elden Ring to masterpiece status, so I can’t help but be let down. Yes, Dark Souls was also “vague,” but that’s in line with the story it successfully told. Elden Ring presents a more defined conflict between parties that the player can frequently interact with, and fails to present a comparatively defined narrative. Ultimately, none of the endings land: for me, at least. (If Shadow of the Erdtree doesn't at least partially address ER's narrative shortcomings, I'll be disappointed).
Now, on to that “defense” I mentioned earlier. What am I defending? Elden Ring's combat, and especially its boss design. Certain YouTubers (or Reddit) may have told you that ER’s bosses are “cheap,” or “unfair,” or “bad.” First of all, have you considered that being a YouTuber isn’t even a real job? I mean, I guess it technically is, but morally it isn’t. I’m aware that statement doesn’t really make sense and no, I will not elaborate. I will elaborate, however, as to why ER’s bosses are good, actually. You see, Little Timmy, this story starts all the way back with Ocarina of Time in ‘98. Due to hardware limitations, inexperience, or both, OoT’s enemy design was fairly basic and over reliant on enemy invulnerability to drag out encounters and feign difficulty. Darknuts did manage to engage, though were overly simplistic and easily exploited. Which brings us Demon’s Souls, where FromSoft mercifully added a layer of complexity on top of OoT’s methodical third-person melee combat framework (adjectives!). In DeS, high damage, weighty attacks were exchanged between enemies and the player character. The result was an odd, lethargic dance that’s somehow come to define an entire genre. Sarcasm aside, DeS truly has a good combat system, which carried on to Dark Souls 1 with its improved, committal healing system (and the funny Adaptability game, forgot what it’s called).
Which brings us to Dark Souls 3, where Michael Zaki slapped another layer of complexity on top. For the most part, DS3 is just a faster game than DS1. It also added Weapon Arts, though those are really more of a flourish than an essential game mechanic. But there’s something else under the hood. DS3’s enemies are even more nuanced than DS1’s, with the most dynamic being the infamous Pontiff Sulyvahn. Why is he infamous? Well… he has strings! In the Souls series generally, an enemy will slowly move toward the player character and throw out an attack at least partially in accordance with the player character’s relative position. After that, the enemy essentially will reset, re-assess the player character, and throw out another attack. Accordingly, the Souls community developed a de facto default “fun” approach to taking on bosses (and enemies generally) as a melee build: what I will call Dodge-Counterattack. That is: roll-dodging an attack, counterattacking, observing the boss, roll-dodging on reaction to its next attack, etc. It’s a strategy that’s fundamentally enjoyable due to the thrill of the risk-reward and satisfaction that comes with proper execution. And it’s a strategy that works on literally every non-environmental boss in the series… until you reach Pontiff. Mr. Sulyvahn simply demands more than the above-described strategy. That’s because he doesn’t just reset after each of his attacks: he can branch one attack into another, and there’s an internal logic to his doing so. Cracking that logic is what he demands: that’s the additional “layer of complexity” I previously referred to. So, to recap: we went from detrimentally simple enemies in OoT, to more complex enemies that were nonetheless universally exploitable through well-timed roll-dodges in DeS and DS1 (and that other funny game if you level ADP), to Pontiff who, for true mastery, requires a deeper understanding than simply of the frame data on his individual attacks. Whether or not Pontiff is well designed in a broad sense can certainly be debated, and I certainly won’t try to argue that DS3 at its most complex is the peak of action games. However, it’s simply an objective falsehood to allege that Pontiff is “cheap” in the sense that he is supposedly inconsistent. He is undeniably consistent, just not in alignment with Dodge-Counterattack: at least in the way that self-styled “Souls Veterans” implement the strategy. And no, even without parrying, Pontiff doesn’t require the player to stand around and wait for obscure counterattack windows. If you thoroughly understand the boss, openings are indeed frequent, even with a slow, strength build. Is acquiring a thorough understanding of Pontiff’s moveset engaging, though? For me, yes, but I’ve self-diagnosed at least a dozen mental illnesses (thank you, TikTok!), so take what you will from that.
Now, you may be asking: Why did this idiot spend a whole paragraph talking about Pontiff Sulyvahn when this review is about Elden Ring? Well, my fellow imbecile, what if I told you that every boss in ER is (metaphorically) Pontiff? Ok, maybe not literally every boss on a deep level, but the point I’m trying to make is that, like with Pontiff, Elden Ring’s bosses demand more from the player than simply Dodge-Counterattack. And, believe it or not, ER makes things even more complex with its expanded posture system (taking a cue from Sekiro). In short, the player character can break an enemy’s (including bosses!) posture, opening them up to a critical hit (essentially an improved, omnipresent iteration of DS3’s equivalent mechanic). And the new guard-counter and jump-attack maneuvers do exceptional amounts of posture damage. Combine said maneuvers with a strength weapon, for example, and a deep understanding of a given boss’s moveset, and you’d be surprised how quickly you can decimate said boss. So why, then, are “Souls Veterans” (yes, I will continue to use that moniker passive-aggressively) up in arms about ER’s bosses? Well, based on my observation of prominent video essays and online discussion, it appears to me that “Souls Veterans” are opting to apply strength build Dodge-Counterattack to bosses uncritically as if they’re playing DS3: which is to say, without abusing the posture mechanic that was expanded largely for the benefit of, you know, strength builds. It’s also worth mentioning that Elden Ring makes it easier than ever to use multiple weapon and equipment types on the same build and, alternatively, to change the player character’s stats in case the player wants to completely 180 their build. So, the way I see it, ER provides “Souls Veterans” with several options: (1) adapt their strength build Dodge-Counterattack strategy to fit ER’s systems and boss design; (2), if they’re not in favor of the prior option, change their equipment to something more practical or subjectively enjoyable for the encounter; or (3), if they’re not in favor of the prior two options, respec their build until they find something that works for them. However, it seems that some have picked the secret fourth option: “None of the Above,” along with pushing the narrative that ER’s bosses are “cheap” so as to justify the game’s expanded NPC summoning mechanic.
To be clear, I don’t love all of Elden Ring’s bosses. Godskin Duo has always sucked ass (fuck Godskin Noble in particular, he’s unironically cheap). Also: large, raidboss-type encounters where the boss flops around and launches huge AoE attacks (see: Dragonlord Placidusax)... not my thing. As for Malenia, however: sorry “Souls Veterans,” but she’s great. Her strength is lore appropriate (nerd emoji), and she’s actually consistent. Even in Phase 2, Malenia is very manageable once you learn how to not die to Waterfowl Dance, which is not nearly as difficult as “Souls Veterans” make it out to be. Seriously: once you stop, look past the flashiness, and actually analyze what the move is, dodging it is unironically straightforward. It’s definitely tricky at point-blank, but that honestly has less to do with the move on a mechanical level and more to do with the panic-inducing psychic-damage inflicted on players when the animation starts. You literally just strafe past her and let her launch past you. It’s not that hard, gamers: hardly a “speedrun strat,” or whatever “Souls Veterans” want to call it (however, taking literally zero damage from the move consistently is admittedly more particular, but that's primarily an issue for no-hit runs). I'm going to take this opportunity to point out that shields are, in fact, a thing: even against the Blade of Miquella. To be honest, the community’s reaction to Malenia isn’t all that surprising. She’s an optional superboss who is unwilling to compromise for players unwilling to compromise with the game’s systems. Or, in the alternative, use the summoning mechanic. But, you know, that’s for noobs. And you’re not one of those, are you?
Art direction good! Soundtrack good! Blah blah review over bye.
78/100.
For starters, following in the footsteps of and ultimately surpassing Breath of the Wild, Elden Ring presents a masterclass of overworld design. The game’s points-of-interest are expertly oriented both geographically and visually, resulting in exploration that’s both seamless and thoroughly compelling. And, unlike Breath of the Wild, there’s enough obscured or otherwise hidden within Elden Ring’s map that overworld gameplay transcends simply being led by the nose down a breadcrumb trail (not that there isn’t more to BotW than that, but I digress). Elden Ring also has the advantage of not being a Switch launch title, so FromSoft could better orient the game’s map around combat difficulty. Generally speaking, combat gets harder as you near the Erdtree, which appropriately serves as a visual anchor for the overworld. The game does a good enough job of signposting difficulty through aesthetics (red hellscape = harder than lush starting area, shocker). And Elden Ring also throws experienced players and challenge runners a bone by letting them outright bypass many early game areas, and even access mid and late-game areas early by acquiring certain items. At its best, Elden Ring sees the player bouncing around between encounters, finding what challenge best suits the player character’s current power level and ultimately overcoming it. Perhaps some players would prefer a more rigid progression, but the above described sort of player-driven exploration and (to an extent) self-imposed difficulty is what drew me to Souls in the first place.
However, as I previously said, Elden Ring still succumbs to universal open world frustrations, primarily seen in its underworld. In short, the game’s smaller dungeons scattered around its map, while not bad or even mediocre, recycle aesthetics and encounters to their detriment. And this recycling bleeds into the overworld as well, with many encounters being repeated around similar points of interest. I understand that there isn’t a realistic way around this given the current realities of gamedev and Elden Ring’s undeniable scale… but it nonetheless hinders immersion and the overall experience. The game’s “Legacy Dungeons,” on the other hand, are fantastic, impressively numerous and blend seamlessly into the overworld. In short, while Elden Ring does contain the sort of detrimental repetition that plagues its genre, it also contains so much high quality content that I frankly don’t even care that much. Simply, Elden Ring would eclipse the vast majority of AAA games on the market even if the frequently repeated content were axed outright.
Before I play a little defense for a commonly criticized part of the game, I’m going to contribute to the dogpiling of an aspect that deserves criticism: Elden Ring’s story. Though, there is an important distinction here that must be made. Elden Ring’s storytelling is great. FromSoft are experts in procedural, environmental storytelling: largely because so much time and effort is put into the lore and worldbuild. For contrast, while I seem to like Tears of the Kingdom more than most self-styled game critics on the internet, it’s undeniable that TotK’s worldbuild is weak, which has the collateral consequence of making satisfying moment-to-moment storytelling through its environment pretty much impossible. And, unfortunately, TotK doesn’t exactly make up for that through its plot. Elden Ring, on the other hand, constantly stimulates the player with lore, character details, aesthetic iterations, etc. as the player works through its environments. It’s often difficult to spend more than a few minutes in Elden Ring without learning more about its world: and what a world it is. However, like TotK, Elden Ring fails in its main narrative (though to a much lesser extent). Simply, while ER presents a conflict between factions over the fate of the Lands Between, with the “factions” largely being represented by a single individual, said individuals’ motivations are vague to a fault. It’s as if George R. R. Martin handed Michael Zaki the blueprint, and Zaki-and-friends figured the worldbuild and general intrigue would be enough to meet fan expectations. And, honestly, they were right… but it doesn’t change the fact that a properly fleshed out story would likely elevate Elden Ring to masterpiece status, so I can’t help but be let down. Yes, Dark Souls was also “vague,” but that’s in line with the story it successfully told. Elden Ring presents a more defined conflict between parties that the player can frequently interact with, and fails to present a comparatively defined narrative. Ultimately, none of the endings land: for me, at least. (If Shadow of the Erdtree doesn't at least partially address ER's narrative shortcomings, I'll be disappointed).
Now, on to that “defense” I mentioned earlier. What am I defending? Elden Ring's combat, and especially its boss design. Certain YouTubers (or Reddit) may have told you that ER’s bosses are “cheap,” or “unfair,” or “bad.” First of all, have you considered that being a YouTuber isn’t even a real job? I mean, I guess it technically is, but morally it isn’t. I’m aware that statement doesn’t really make sense and no, I will not elaborate. I will elaborate, however, as to why ER’s bosses are good, actually. You see, Little Timmy, this story starts all the way back with Ocarina of Time in ‘98. Due to hardware limitations, inexperience, or both, OoT’s enemy design was fairly basic and over reliant on enemy invulnerability to drag out encounters and feign difficulty. Darknuts did manage to engage, though were overly simplistic and easily exploited. Which brings us Demon’s Souls, where FromSoft mercifully added a layer of complexity on top of OoT’s methodical third-person melee combat framework (adjectives!). In DeS, high damage, weighty attacks were exchanged between enemies and the player character. The result was an odd, lethargic dance that’s somehow come to define an entire genre. Sarcasm aside, DeS truly has a good combat system, which carried on to Dark Souls 1 with its improved, committal healing system (and the funny Adaptability game, forgot what it’s called).
Which brings us to Dark Souls 3, where Michael Zaki slapped another layer of complexity on top. For the most part, DS3 is just a faster game than DS1. It also added Weapon Arts, though those are really more of a flourish than an essential game mechanic. But there’s something else under the hood. DS3’s enemies are even more nuanced than DS1’s, with the most dynamic being the infamous Pontiff Sulyvahn. Why is he infamous? Well… he has strings! In the Souls series generally, an enemy will slowly move toward the player character and throw out an attack at least partially in accordance with the player character’s relative position. After that, the enemy essentially will reset, re-assess the player character, and throw out another attack. Accordingly, the Souls community developed a de facto default “fun” approach to taking on bosses (and enemies generally) as a melee build: what I will call Dodge-Counterattack. That is: roll-dodging an attack, counterattacking, observing the boss, roll-dodging on reaction to its next attack, etc. It’s a strategy that’s fundamentally enjoyable due to the thrill of the risk-reward and satisfaction that comes with proper execution. And it’s a strategy that works on literally every non-environmental boss in the series… until you reach Pontiff. Mr. Sulyvahn simply demands more than the above-described strategy. That’s because he doesn’t just reset after each of his attacks: he can branch one attack into another, and there’s an internal logic to his doing so. Cracking that logic is what he demands: that’s the additional “layer of complexity” I previously referred to. So, to recap: we went from detrimentally simple enemies in OoT, to more complex enemies that were nonetheless universally exploitable through well-timed roll-dodges in DeS and DS1 (and that other funny game if you level ADP), to Pontiff who, for true mastery, requires a deeper understanding than simply of the frame data on his individual attacks. Whether or not Pontiff is well designed in a broad sense can certainly be debated, and I certainly won’t try to argue that DS3 at its most complex is the peak of action games. However, it’s simply an objective falsehood to allege that Pontiff is “cheap” in the sense that he is supposedly inconsistent. He is undeniably consistent, just not in alignment with Dodge-Counterattack: at least in the way that self-styled “Souls Veterans” implement the strategy. And no, even without parrying, Pontiff doesn’t require the player to stand around and wait for obscure counterattack windows. If you thoroughly understand the boss, openings are indeed frequent, even with a slow, strength build. Is acquiring a thorough understanding of Pontiff’s moveset engaging, though? For me, yes, but I’ve self-diagnosed at least a dozen mental illnesses (thank you, TikTok!), so take what you will from that.
Now, you may be asking: Why did this idiot spend a whole paragraph talking about Pontiff Sulyvahn when this review is about Elden Ring? Well, my fellow imbecile, what if I told you that every boss in ER is (metaphorically) Pontiff? Ok, maybe not literally every boss on a deep level, but the point I’m trying to make is that, like with Pontiff, Elden Ring’s bosses demand more from the player than simply Dodge-Counterattack. And, believe it or not, ER makes things even more complex with its expanded posture system (taking a cue from Sekiro). In short, the player character can break an enemy’s (including bosses!) posture, opening them up to a critical hit (essentially an improved, omnipresent iteration of DS3’s equivalent mechanic). And the new guard-counter and jump-attack maneuvers do exceptional amounts of posture damage. Combine said maneuvers with a strength weapon, for example, and a deep understanding of a given boss’s moveset, and you’d be surprised how quickly you can decimate said boss. So why, then, are “Souls Veterans” (yes, I will continue to use that moniker passive-aggressively) up in arms about ER’s bosses? Well, based on my observation of prominent video essays and online discussion, it appears to me that “Souls Veterans” are opting to apply strength build Dodge-Counterattack to bosses uncritically as if they’re playing DS3: which is to say, without abusing the posture mechanic that was expanded largely for the benefit of, you know, strength builds. It’s also worth mentioning that Elden Ring makes it easier than ever to use multiple weapon and equipment types on the same build and, alternatively, to change the player character’s stats in case the player wants to completely 180 their build. So, the way I see it, ER provides “Souls Veterans” with several options: (1) adapt their strength build Dodge-Counterattack strategy to fit ER’s systems and boss design; (2), if they’re not in favor of the prior option, change their equipment to something more practical or subjectively enjoyable for the encounter; or (3), if they’re not in favor of the prior two options, respec their build until they find something that works for them. However, it seems that some have picked the secret fourth option: “None of the Above,” along with pushing the narrative that ER’s bosses are “cheap” so as to justify the game’s expanded NPC summoning mechanic.
To be clear, I don’t love all of Elden Ring’s bosses. Godskin Duo has always sucked ass (fuck Godskin Noble in particular, he’s unironically cheap). Also: large, raidboss-type encounters where the boss flops around and launches huge AoE attacks (see: Dragonlord Placidusax)... not my thing. As for Malenia, however: sorry “Souls Veterans,” but she’s great. Her strength is lore appropriate (nerd emoji), and she’s actually consistent. Even in Phase 2, Malenia is very manageable once you learn how to not die to Waterfowl Dance, which is not nearly as difficult as “Souls Veterans” make it out to be. Seriously: once you stop, look past the flashiness, and actually analyze what the move is, dodging it is unironically straightforward. It’s definitely tricky at point-blank, but that honestly has less to do with the move on a mechanical level and more to do with the panic-inducing psychic-damage inflicted on players when the animation starts. You literally just strafe past her and let her launch past you. It’s not that hard, gamers: hardly a “speedrun strat,” or whatever “Souls Veterans” want to call it (however, taking literally zero damage from the move consistently is admittedly more particular, but that's primarily an issue for no-hit runs). I'm going to take this opportunity to point out that shields are, in fact, a thing: even against the Blade of Miquella. To be honest, the community’s reaction to Malenia isn’t all that surprising. She’s an optional superboss who is unwilling to compromise for players unwilling to compromise with the game’s systems. Or, in the alternative, use the summoning mechanic. But, you know, that’s for noobs. And you’re not one of those, are you?
Art direction good! Soundtrack good! Blah blah review over bye.
78/100.