Recent reviews by sandevastatedstyles

I had not thought it possible that a sequel could constitute, in its very essence, a recycled cadaver - the first game’s bones stripped, bleached, and reassembled into a grotesque simulacrum of its predecessor. Yet here, in this benighted digital realm styled Darkest Dungeon II, I encountered precisely such an abomination against continuity. For years I waited as one waits for the tide, or for madness to fully claim a weakened mind - first for the game’s release, then for Red Hook to impose upon it some semblance of balance or worthy content. Through numerous attempts, each more harrowing than the last, through the unspeakable catastrophe of a lost save file and the subsequent soul-crushing recommencement of the grind, I have arrived at a most terrible conclusion: sweet surrender is preferable to continued engagement. I was delusional - a word I employ with clinical precision - to believe I might enter this second chapter as I had the first. For this is not Darkest Dungeon. This is something altogether more insidious: an RNG driven roguelike of the most uncharitable construction, wherein the act of beginning anew inspires not the organic dread of the original, but a suffering most mundane and dispiriting. And here I must pause - for there is a particular sorrow woven into this matter that transcends mere critique. Rest Wayne June, that magnificent sepulchral instrument whose voice as the Ancestor struck the listener like proclamations carved into tombstone - was given, in this second chapter, a diminished vessel. The Academic. A role muted, sorrowful, stripped of that thunderous vitality which had once burrowed itself so irreversibly into our collective consciousness. One might have forgiven this, had time permitted. But time, that most indifferent of cosmic forces, did not. He has since passed beyond the veil entirely - and thus what was meant to be merely a different role has become, in the cruelest of retrospects, his final word within this world. Not the Ancestor’s magnificent damnations. Not those phrases that branded themselves upon the mind like hot iron. But something quieter. Something lesser. And that, perhaps more than any design failure contained within these pages, is the truest tragedy this game has produced. The visual aesthetic is, to employ the mildest of available terms, depressing. The character’s designs afflict the eye - grotesque, repulsive entities that resemble nothing so much as overgrown dwarves afflicted with some hypertrophic torso condition. The environments oppress without relent. The cosmic creatures, rather than inspiring the appropriate existential terror, inspire instead a fatigue of the most profane variety. It was this relentless visual assault, I confess, that first weakened my resolve to persist. Mini bosses - once a source of terrible fascination - are rendered skip-worthy by the ever-present tyranny of RNG. The mountain bosses constitute a gambling enterprise of the most undisguised and shameless nature. Character balance exists in a state comparable to that of a man attempting to stand upright upon a ship deck in a tempest - that is to say, not at all. The Leper, that unfortunate soul, has been reduced to a vagabond of negligible utility. The new heroes are spineless confections, witless jokes masquerading as playable entities. To fragment a character’s narrative across the map and demand repeated grinding for its completion - whilst simultaneously punishing those who fail to intuit the correct approach - represents a design philosophy of staggering cruelty, and not the interesting kind this franchise once promised. The new skills are, with few exceptions, worthless. The token system confounds without rewarding comprehension. The stun mechanic is inadequate. The healing is worse. Stress management has transcended difficulty and become outright torture. The trinket pool is a vast ocean of useless refuse. And the relationship mechanic - imposed atop stress systems and mental collapse - represents a kind of recursive psychological punishment that one suspects was designed by something that has never experienced joy. The musical compositions present a similarly bifurcated nature: some genuinely evocative pieces, undermined by the cosmic theme, which after fifty hours of exposure transforms from tolerable to a maddening, repetitive idiocy that burrows into the consciousness like something that ought not to be named. I wished - genuinely, with the fading hope of a man watching the last candle gutter - to love Darkest Dungeon II. But it is not what it should have been, and I perceive now, with the clarity that only complete capitulation provides, that it shall never be otherwise. The void has looked back. It was underwhelming.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

Oi ya fakin’ drongo, took me a bloody 13 hours to clock the full picture of this kant of a game. Open world bloat, straight up Ubisoft bog-water illusion of “activities.” Padding so thick it’d make a bogan weep. Just to scout the fakin’ area using a balloon, I’ve gotta: find the balloon, find the button that fires the kant up, find out it’s got no fuel, find fuel, find out the fuel can is one third full of piss weak liquid but somehow still refills the balloon, find out it wasn’t enough, hunt down another one, then accidentally hit the ignite button like a complete fakin’ galah. Strewth. This game had so much bloody potential, mate, but it’s been artificially stretched like a rubber on a drover’s dog using the most mentally shi*thouse design decisions known to man. And another thing that sh*its me to tears - showing you the area completion percentage. That manipulative little kant speaks directly to the perfectionist wаnker inside me and makes me waste hours doing absolute fak-all nonsense just to see a full bar. The world itself, fair dinkum, is fakin’ gorgeous - landscapes, weather, locations, all done beautifully. Vehicle gameplay, apart from heavy chunky bastards like the buggy, is alright. Though every single NPC seems coded with one directive: destroy your fakin’ car, not actually race you like a normal dinkidi*ckhead would. Combat’s decent enough - batman-style biffo, which I’m not gonna sh*it on - but the sh*it camera and tight-arsed little zones absolutely root it. Story-wise it’s pretty much soy meat on a sad plate. Black Finger is genuinely a good kant, I’ll give him that, but the bloke’s absolutely everywhere - story, car, roaming around like he owns the joint. Every other character I’ve met is a pretentious boring flog with fak-all personality. Some visual effects are sick as, others - like using boost - will give you a migraine that’d drop a fakin’ horse. Whoever signed off on that needs a good kick up the arse. The game could’ve been saved by a proper variety of tools and guns, real unlocks that mean something, and dense war convoys that’d actually make you sh*it your pants. Yeah nah, I get it - it’s a console game, expectations on the floor. But honestly, no matter how much I love Mad Max franchise, this one’s a pass unless you’re a heavy pi*sshead or a committed stoner who can achieve that beautiful flow state where you happily root around with a balloon for half an hour without once asking yourself why you’re burning your life on this instead of literally anything else that matters. If I could skip the recommendation bit entirely I fakin’ would, but here we are. Don’t bother, mate, get back on the real life pony.

It’s the new battlefield 6, always has been. Full of soul and attention to details, a true goodbye love letter from DICE father team. Neo western edge, you never die this often like here, enjoying the view, die on turkish gallipoli peninsula, or die on monte grappa mountains, or die in russian revolution, a lot of great and tough maps, hardcore servers are here, m1911 unlocked in two versions, peacekeeper colt exists, the most welcoming and friendly community willing to help anytime, franz ferdinand would like this one.

https://youtu.be/e4nX8-EZE00?si=dPVnwn5nUll4DzP9

we still talk about you

https://youtu.be/isgLfyte2a4?si=f2JDynYbPxhzMQPR

One more time i hear this bs about hesitation i swear... So... okay let'go. First of all i didn't expect this game to be this punishing, all i thought - it's fromsoftware, i know dark souls, it will be sweaty, but we'll handle this - you got this. Well sh*t. I mean i don't know what i wanted from Sekiro but definitely not what it is, perhaps i'm craving for tenchu series that bad. I respect this "one mistake and your arse is penetrated" but i think i got exhausted about more than half way through, where the sakura bull is, just got tired if level design that's it. beaten by life but not broken i promise we'll get there, isshin the glock saint awaits to beat the sh*t out of me to prove oneself - f*ck you with your hesitation.

i have a nostalgia for the fun this game used to have, fun i’ve never seen, but somebody said it was there before shrinking and nerfing

i’m doing my part for democracy

admit the challenge, do the balance

cyberstan won

what do you mean you have no balance team

farming super credits is too much for an assault infantry



I guess John Helldiver is really busy this year starting from fixing dictatorship then clearing terminids in east this month. Spread them democracy, pump their oil, gather the resources, rise the one and only freedom flag, yeeeehaw.

I've never brushed my teeth that often.

The game literally says - don't look outside, what first thing you do ? exactly - you look outside.

Somehow much better than dying light, of course if you like m*********ing melee weapon crafting into all types of natureruneglyphs, like FIRE damage !!! or or ACID damage !!!! It’s one time fun, full of degraded humor and jiggery human meat pixels . Main story is a big waste of potential though. Not fan of given character choice, sure fire brigade stripper guy is cool but it’s more for New York, here in west coast we should definitely have all sorts of bums and techno re***ds. Antagonists are nasty feces here, couldn’t stand this false theater, should have gone to tempo silencio instead…

Typical day in hospitality service.

Techno Jack is too cool for me. Couldn’t bare the toughness, you know, when you’re 16 and you don’t understand techno music, same here, i’m in thirties and still can’t slice and dice everyone without feeling numb, no spark for me, but MGS2 version of Jack is my spiritual animal, we will get there someday, i promise, they will pay for nano mufasa’s death.