With its early launch this month, the product has certainly generated considerable buzz. Nexon’s looter shooter, affectionately referred to as “with waifus” by the online community, has racked up impressive figures on Steam and garnered widespread acclaim, but it is not without its shortcomings.
The flaws in question could have been fatal to my fascination with the sport, and given Nexon’s notorious reputation, it will come as no surprise that grind and monetization issues are at the root of the problems.
Despite having modest hopes when I entered, my initial experiences have been overwhelmingly positive. I initially expected a mediocre mindless grind for rewards, but instead found a decent to excellent mindless grind for rewards.
While lacking distinctiveness or intellectual stimulation, the gameplay cycle remains engagingly fulfilling. Missions are primarily bite-sized and effortless, perpetuating a cycle of rapid dopamine releases and encouraging ongoing play. The weapons also feel satisfying to wield, largely due to effective sound effects that amplify their impact.
While I didn’t delve deeply enough to fully harness the scope of build customization, it’s clear that the sheer variety of weapons and kit modules allows for an impressive degree of character specialization. The potential for theory-crafting appears almost boundless.
While I did discover some points that may potentially become tiresome over an extended period of time. The enemy AI seems woefully inadequate; non-player characters’ sole strategy appears to be a plodding advance, rendering them vulnerable and easily targeted. Bosses exhibit a consistent mechanism for developing immunity, as they become invulnerable until a set number of small floating orbs are destroyed above their heads. Within a brief timeframe, the game proved to be more entertaining than nothing.
The scrutiny surrounding the sexualization of female characters is likely to generate significant debate among both fans and critics. While it wasn’t as perilous as I had initially envisioned, it’s still by no means risk-free. While I’m not overly impressed with the overall experience, it’s reassuring that all female characters appear to be of legal age and consistently depicted wearing at least one piece of clothing, a standard that is commendably upheld in contemporary Korean gaming culture.
Despite receiving a significant amount of criticism, I believe the story effectively achieves its intended purpose. While it’s primarily superficial, it doesn’t purport to be more. I really admire the effectiveness of the en media res approach that leaves almost everything unexplained. The narrative’s lack of exposition allows for an immersive experience, with characters engaging in conflict without interrupting the action to provide a detailed history of their world; instead, essential context is gradually revealed through the story’s progression.
The characters exhibit surprising depth despite the genre’s modest demands, earning my appreciation for the approach that introduces many playable Descendants as non-playable characters (NPCs) initially, allowing players to acquaint themselves with their personalities before taking control. Notably, certain Descendants possess unique personal quests that enrich their narratives, a nuance I appreciate.
The voice acting is inconsistent, yet several actors seem to have genuinely enjoyed their roles and delivered interpretations superior to those often found in import titles (though the bar is admittedly low), aside from some peculiar stylistic choices, such as the infamous “Commander Greg.” It’s possible that this quirk stems from a cultural disconnect, with something that might be convincing in Korean appearing awkward in English, as it’s executed fairly straightforwardly.
The game may not be a masterpiece, but its fundamental building blocks create timeless value. While early access to junk food games may have its appeal, there’s still room for refinement and improvement.
The primary source of frustration lies in the convoluted process of unlocking playable characters through mechanical means.
The satisfaction I derive from exploring RPG and RPG-adjacent games hinges heavily on connecting with a particular character or genre, prompting me to repeatedly restart and try again until I stumble upon one that truly resonates with me. I’ve always seethed with frustration whenever video games constrain me to a predetermined persona and demand that I either grind endlessly or shell out cash to unlock fresh experiences. The instant my sense of adventure was suffocated by it, leaving a lingering resentment that resurfaces every time I’m confronted with its very presence again? is not any exception.
Currently, there are 14 playable characters, excluding their final variants; however, at launch, only three can be selected from the start, and these three are incredibly plain that I speculate they were intentionally created to be underwhelming, thereby prompting players to explore the in-game store’s offerings more quickly.
I’m drawn to the understated heroism of Ajax, a tank character whose unique ability lies in summoning shields that provide an extra layer of protection for allies and himself. In all honesty, he is remarkably effective. With a seemingly impenetrable defense in place, I effortlessly cleared the battlefield of threats, mowing down opponents with calculated precision. Despite this, the experience lacked a truly captivating gameplay dynamic.
You gain access to a second playable character, Bunny, a high-speed fighter dubbed “glass cannon,” relatively early in the narrative without excessive difficulty. Unfortunately, my initial optimism that she would surpass the underwhelming experience offered by Ajax was short-lived; I found myself lacking enthusiasm for playing as Bunny as well. While she might appeal to certain people, I found her rapid-fire approach tiring to watch.
I’m forced into a distasteful decision: slog for an uncertain amount of time as avatars that fail to resonate with me to unlock one I genuinely enjoy, or shell out cash to instantly access someone new and potentially more appealing.
What’s truly unsettling is the absence of a guarantee that I’ll derive satisfaction from any character I might unlock, regardless of strategy used. While there’s an extensive range of playable characters, I’m cautiously optimistic that I’ll find at least one or two that I’ll enjoy playing, although my initial attempts have been unsuccessful so far. Some characters seem intriguing on paper, but it’s only through experimentation that I’ll know for certain which ones truly shine.
I wouldn’t commit without seeing the full picture first; the uncertainty would be too great. While I am perhaps more motivated to progress, the uncertainty surrounding the time required to grind is unsettling, making it difficult for me to continue improving my current characters without feeling overwhelmed by the unpredictability of the game’s RNG.
In principle, I can appreciate the allure of character-collecting games like this one, and while I’ve often expressed enthusiasm about grinding for novel abilities or playstyles over numerical upgrades, it seems there should be a way to immediately engage with a personality or build that resonates with me. The mere absence of online multiplayer capability utterly destroys the gaming experience for me.
The concept of the Descendants’ organization into arbitrary tiers is particularly galling, as it means that some possess significantly greater durability or require substantially more effort to unlock. Despite being considered cost-effective, even the cheapest options in my forex broker typically exceed $10 per trade, a price point that seems relatively high to me. Let’s sidestep the astronomical expenses associated with final revisions, which can easily exceed $100, and instead focus on the widely held perception that many people consider their bonuses insufficient to yield a substantial advantage.
There are various grievances to address within the business model, as well. There are limited options for customizable appearances of Descendants without incurring additional costs. One cannot even hide their helmet without any pores or skin? While I support commercializing beauty products, this stance seems excessive.
Many people harbor a strong aversion to dyes. Although not exclusively single-use, these devices tend to become irreversibly linked to a specific medication once utilized. You can apply or remove the dye from your skin as needed, but if you want to use the same dye on a different skin tone, you’ll need to purchase it again. You cannot dye default skins; instead, you need to purchase or unlock a new one to start using dyes.
While some free skins are available through the battle pass, the selection is limited, and acquiring them requires a significant amount of effort. Despite noticing a tooltip hinting at unlocking cosmetics through accumulating lore entries, I remain uncertain as to the nature of these rewards and the process for obtaining them. Given the sport’s parsimonious nature, I expect it to yield little more than a negligible outcome, perhaps akin to a forgotten twig.
While part of me craves playing more, I’m hesitant to invest due to my distaste for the existing characters and doubts about the potential impact on the game’s business model through mechanics that unlock new ones. While most players excel with this feature in various games, such as Fortnite and Call of Duty, it may simply be an individual shortcoming.
