Exploring the idea of whether Pragmata is for everyone or not, this level of systemic flexibility could suggest two opposing truths: one, that Pragmata will indeed be universal thanks to its range of playstyles, or two, it might not be for everyone precisely because the hack-shoot-destroy interplay forming the core of its design can’t be ignored.

Everything in this article is based on officially revealed information.

If Hugh and Diana’s symbiotic combat was just a gimmick, that would imply a needlessly flashy, wholly unnecessary system. Yet, eight possible demo endings suggests a fully-realised system. This is a game with meaningful mechanics, even if there’s a heavy chance they’ll be polarising.

First though, it’s worth rebuking any suggestion that Pragmata’s sci-fi tone is inaccessible, as what’s been shown so far is surprisingly familiar. Sterile white corridors, rogue AI, advanced weaponry – these are well-worn genre staples. If anything stood out about the demo’s setting, it’s how clean the lunar facility appears, almost to the point of artificiality. But, as subsequent preview footage emerged showcasing a 3D-print Times Square replica, it became clear the moon-base’s sterility is intentional, demonstrating tangibly the game’s underlying themes.

Narratively, too, the game isn’t as opaque as it might first appear. The demo, for instance, establishes clear story beats immediately, leaving longer-term questions simmering in the background. You know, like orthodox storytelling. So, if you bounce off Pragmata, it likely won’t be because of any perceived ambiguity. It’ll be for deeper, more mechanical reasons, like the game’s full-commitment to its dual-protagonist setup.

See, the central relationship is where Pragmata begins to separate itself. As much as Hugh and Diana’s dynamic feels unconventional, they’re mechanically inseparable. And the game makes it clear that they’re more than just narrative partners, as every encounter builds around their cooperation. Controlling them both in tandem might initially seem like a novelty, but theirs is a relationship which informs everything beyond combat – pacing, theme, mood, and more.

If you’re the sort of player who prefers autonomy, or the joy of controlling an individually powerful character, then Hugh and Diana’s mechanical bond might not resonate. Ultimately, if the bond doesn’t land then a huge part of the experience risks falling flat.

But, actually operating in combat – the one-two punch of hack ‘n shoot – is where Pragmata could really draw the line. At a glance, the game is just another third-person shooter. In practice, however, it’s two distinct, interrelated layers, each demanding real-time co-ordination. You’re continually utilising spatial awareness to manage Hugh’s positioning, movement, and firepower, all whilst simultaneously engaging with Diana’s hacking mechanics. If the mental load is too great, then friction materialises. Not everyone wants to think this much in the middle of combat, and not everyone will have the dexterity to comfortably manage both sides of the process.

But here’s where it flips: once the process becomes intuitive, then Pragmata starts to offer a different kind of power fantasy. Not one rooted in brute force or razor-sharp gunplay, but in mastering a certain kind of psychological flow; like forming chords on a piano without looking at the keys. It’s satisfaction that’s earned through patience and practice. Yet, the journey from friction to instinct may be where some players fall off.

And the greatest risk, perhaps, to players dropping the game before intuition takes over is in Diana’s hacking system. Now, it’s easy to look at hacking and assume it’s a momentum breaking device. But, as I’ve already alluded, hacking is a core component of Pragmata’s combat loop, where you’re forced to engage with both halves of the system to succeed. Yet, despite transitions between hacking and shooting designed to be as freeflowing as possible, there’s still a chance it’ll split opinions.

Look – in honesty, Diana’s hacking does interrupt flow, at least if you’re comparing it to the pace of traditional third-person shooters. Pragmata does not allow you to endlessly run and gun; hacking is an unavoidable, extra layer. And, that’s kind of the point. See, these puzzles are solved in real-time, with both Hugh and Diana facing greater exposure the longer it takes you to navigate to the matrix’s shutdown command. You can move through coloured nodes to activate various bonus effects too, all while shifting Hugh’s position through your peripheral vision.

Many will thrive on this multi-tasking, yet it’s inevitable that others may find constant interruption to be exhausting over time, especially as the hacking puzzles escalate in complexity.

However, here’s the other thing: it’s hard to imagine Diana’s hacking system catching anyone off guard. The game’s marketing has been transparent about what it is and how it works. So, if anything, the real question isn’t what the system does, but how deeply can it evolve, if at all? And will players be willing to keep up, if so?

Orbiting the complex sci-fi gunplay are further questions, centring on Pragmata’s story which looks to be telling a more personal tale than first appeared. The relationship between Hugh and Diana is the nucleus, with potential for it to echo the parent-child dynamic seen in games like The Last Of Us. Identity, humanity, and artificial life are further thematic emblems shining under the surface, but at this stage it’s unclear how far the game will explore these topics. If it does, it could create another point of division, as not everyone comes to a action title looking for slow-burning character drama or philosophical introspection. You might want immediacy, spectacle, and dopamine-boosting explosions, and that’s fair. However, a surprisingly emotional core could be exactly what elevates Pragmata’s overall experience.

By this point, you’ve probably realised that Pragmata is experimental. What initially appears familiar is eroded by its dual-character structure, layered combat, the integration of hacking into every encounter, and the symbiotic relationship between Hugh and Diana which may blossom into a nuanced, father-daughter escape. These elements alone make the game a hard sell. See, there’s comfort in convention, and there are pre-conceived expectations which games need to satisfy in order to succeed financially.

In recent years, disdain in proliferated sequels and fatigue in annual sports and shooting titles has grown. The consensus is that studios are becoming increasingly risk averse, where big budgets often yield well-trodden tropes simply reskinned and sold back to us. It’s a whole topic for another day, but positioning Pragmata inside the wider conversation frames it as an antidote to the repetitive experiences that increasingly dominate AAA spaces.

So then, maybe the divisive elements outlined in this feature are precisely what makes games like Pragmata so compelling. Its mental demands commit the game to something that isn’t easily reducible to genre shorthand. Pragmata could turn out to be the exact type of experience players have been craving. Something which takes risks to standout. Much of its promise might be the result of the genre’s golden touch in recent years, but if it lands it could pave the way for more risk-taking projects. Pragmata might not be for everyone; at least, not yet.

Note: The views expressed in this article are those of the author and do not necessarily represent the views of, and should not be attributed to, GamingBolt as an organization.

That last part is what reminded me of my days on the PS3, in a world where my video games didn’t bother with holding my hand as much as the ones on offer today do. My protagonists weren’t as chatty, often suffering alongside me as we tried to figure out a way forward in a game that stubbornly stood in our way. Of course, I was never truly alone, as the internet was always at my side, helping me find other players who were there for the very same reason. Crimson Desert brought it all back, making me do something I hadn’t done in years: I had a device close at hand with Google readily available as I made my way across Pywel.

It’s a special callback to the days of engaging with a community of players, exchanging solutions to problems we were facing while giving our fellow players who managed to offer those solutions the respect and validation they were due. Pywel reminds me of a time when even single-player adventures could have online communities form around them and thrive, their players always ready to lend a helping hand or a shoulder to cry on when things got too difficult.

Crimson Desert makes every Greymane who’s playing it a part of the adventure. But how has it managed to do that in a world where games such as this one can largely be enjoyed alone? Join me as I take you through the multiple tabs this one has made me keep open in my brain as I play it.

A Sense Of Mystery and Intrigue

I kind of found it odd to be playing a game that had me look up guides this quickly after Elden Ring gave me a humbling reminder that all of my snooping skills weren’t enough for me to see everything The Lands Between had to show me. But here we are, a few years later, courtesy of how jealously Pywel chose to guard its secrets. It’s not because its puzzles and secrets were broken, but because they were just there, with very opaque clues and the game refusing to whisper helpfully in my ear as other titles do.

So many games from back in the day had me doing this, and those guides were indeed the inspiration for me to write about video games today. Skyrim immediately comes to mind, which was so thoroughly overwhelming with its systems that I needed to make sense of it all by asking players with more experience. Any of the Souls games at that point were the same, and I’d say they continue to be a gold standard when it comes to hiding secrets. All of these titles made each playthrough a research project, funded by a sense of curiosity and fuelled by an intrigue so deep it kept any potential fatigue at bay.

But Crimson Desert comes pretty damn close to that same feeling, and Pywel’s sheer size had me convinced that taking a bit of help with this one was going to be a good idea in the long run. But that isn’t an indicator of a game’s challenge, isn’t it? The puzzles tab joins the walkthrough tab as the second one, feeding me a stream of thoughts every time I dove back into Crimson Desert for a jaunt through Pywel.

They’re the hardest part of the game in my opinion, and that’s after trying to take on the boss of Karin Quarry with the gear I began the game with, unaware of the magic of Abyss Gears. I hadn’t even met Hornsplitter at that point. But if you’ve been up to The Abyss through any of the Spires, you know that even getting the damn door to open is an uphill task. It took me right back to Prince of Persia (2008), a game that had you accompanied by a very knowledgeable companion, but one who was as beat as you were when it came to its puzzles.

Skyrim is another example, as are so many of the puzzles from Zelda. A more recent example would be last year’s Hell Is Us, a game that had me taking as many notes as I could while trying to pay attention to what was being said. But that’s just one new game versus so many from the PS3 era that were real head-scratchers. It’s good that Crimson Desert took that route, as the land of Pywel is able to really grab your attention with its air of mystery and wonder.

Call me crazy, but there is pleasure in trying to piece together a solution, my brain coming at a problem from a multitude of angles before I finally swallow a slice of humble pie and look up a solution online. I kind of like feeling a little stupid when I see a solution that was staring me right in the face. I’m laughing with you at the fact that I totally missed the memory of seeing somebody stab those pillars you use to rotate puzzle pieces, but I’m dying on the inside when I think of the two hours I spent trying to figure that out, my knowledge of the skill tree more decidedly biased towards my Axiom abilities at that point.

It’s something that used to be normal, a facet of gaming that I’d grown to miss after it became as rare as it has. But Crimson Desert brought it back. But there are more tabs open for us to click on.

The Fear Of Failure

The first two tabs that Crimson Desert has opened up for me dealt with problems I knew existed. But what about the ones I didn’t know of? Or know about but hadn’t encountered yet? They opened up two new tabs, both fuelled by an anxiety that I was going to break the game by exploring too much of it, a sentiment that only grew as I tackled quest after quest from Hernand’s residents.

And as with all anxiety, it helps to know you’re not alone. I found myself scrolling the game’s subreddit in my spare time, finding so many other kindred spirits who were worried about something they couldn’t yet solve, or perhaps excited about things that they’d seen on the forum. I was firmly in the latter camp after watching somebody use Kliff’s fists to devastating effect, which made me promptly load up my save to check out Unarmed attacks and their skills.

I’ve met people as obsessed with the game as I am, which invokes fond memories of playing Skyrim for the first time, or posting rants about Souls bosses and having other players agree while people who’d beat the boss shared useful advice and tips. I’ve beaten so many bosses based on recommendations from my peers over the years, and I tip my hat to those helpful folks. Crimson Desert brought collective discovery back again and made it really cool, too.

There’s also the tab that wonders about the consequences of my actions. You’re probably aware of the Fruit of Life at this point, and if you’re not, just DON’T pick it up until the story tells you to. I learned that the hard way after I picked it up, the sense that it looked important prompting me to take a break and learn from my fellow Greymanes that I had just bricked a quest. I considered a new playthrough, but after 80 hours of diligent exploring, I’ve since decided to eat the loss and watch a YouTube video instead.

All of the PS3 era games I’ve talked about had that sense of a first playthrough being one where you learn the ropes, and your second one being the full experience, where you come at the game armed with all the knowledge of its system you need to make it work in your favor. You tested its boundaries and learned from them the hard way before joining the community and obsessively looking up discourse around the game. Well, my phone’s screen time has seen a drastic uptick since Crimson Desert came out, and it isn’t a coincidence.

Its magic comes not from certainty, but from the possibilities Pywell offers to those who look to conquer it instead of merely exploring it. Which brings me to the final couple of tabs in my brain when I play it.

Stubborn and Proud Greymanes

Conquering Pywel is a great initiative, but executing that in Crimson Desert’s early days was quite the challenge. It’s pre-release, and release builds had their own problems, and yet, the gaming community persevered through it all, belting out solutions to tackle both the game’s challenges while also trying to solve individual problems. I got my legendary horse after a very helpful tip that made the entire taming mini-game a whole lot easier than trying to tilt my thumb stick away from the wild horse as it tried to throw me off.

Yet another video guide helped me solve a puzzle that a text-based one couldn’t, thanks to the description going above my head and not really helping me find what I was looking for. On another occasion, I was convinced that I was locked out of completing an important Abyss puzzle, the one that would allow me to begin using elemental attacks. I spent a lot of time looking up different ideas until the suggestion to just visit my camp and try to find lost items there finally pointed me in the right direction. The Frost Mantle is a very important part of my take on Kliff now.

It’s probably easy to tell that Crimson Desert has become an obsession of mine at this point. I take that as a compliment, as the final tab the game has open in my brain is one that’s just a banner of flashbacks to a time when I was more curious and less efficient in my games, a heady combination that could lead to disaster (looking at you, Witcher 3) just as often as it could lead to incredible moments. The hours spent on that high-level early boss in Nioh 2 immediately come to mind.

Pywel doesn’t just transport me to another reality from time to time. It sends me several years back into my own, when I could pull an all-nighter on a game that deserved it. But my bedtime is stricter now, and life gets in the way of most games. But for the few ones out there like Crimson Desert and its inspirations, I’m happy to trade a little shut-eye for the chance to feel like I’m back in the PS3 era of games again. And that, perhaps, is its greatest achievement.

Note: The views expressed in this article are those of the author and do not necessarily represent the views of, and should not be attributed to, GamingBolt as an organization.

And burn it did, thanks to a controversial launch by CD Projekt RED that also led to one of the most significant redemption stories in gaming. In September 2023, it felt like that story had come full circle. Update 2.0 fully revamped the game, allowing it to achieve its potential in every way, and Phantom Liberty delivered a stellar narrative with an unimaginable yet fitting narrative catharsis. CD Projekt RED got their win, finished their story, so on and so forth. Roll credits.

Except it didn’t stop. Granted, supporting a game for almost three years after launch was already notable, but it’s now April 2026, and Cyberpunk 2077 has finally received PS5 Pro support. You know, the same feature that the developer said there were no plans for back in 2024.

The best part about this update isn’t that it supports the regular PSSR for dynamic 4K. No, this is the Upgraded PSSR, which offers better image quality. It could have stopped there, but it went even further and implemented 8-way Bounding Volume Hierarchy to further improve the ray-traced lighting, reflections and shadows. That’s on top of Variable Rate Shading, and improved ray-tracing cache and object queries.

Which probably would have been enough on its own, but it also went a step further and added three different modes. You can opt for Performance Mode if a higher frame rate is most important, except now it can run at up to 90 frames per second on displays with Variable Refresh Rate support. Ray Tracing Mode delivers “only” 60 FPS but ensures ray tracing for all shadows. Ray-traced reflections are available with transparent objects and vehicle paint.

However, if you want the full Night City experience, then Ray Tracing Pro Mode is it. Alongside everything else, you get ray-traced ambient occlusion, emissive lighting and skylights at 40 frames per second on high refresh rate monitors. Even if you don’t have the latter, hitting 30 FPS with such fidelity and image quality is pretty impressive.

I know, I know – there’s no New Game Plus, no third-person perspective, and nothing for other platform holders to really latch on to. It’s a bummer, but the fact that CD Projekt RED is still supporting Cyberpunk 2077 to this extent is insane.

You could argue that it’s because this is their highest revenue earner, and you would absolutely be right, with over 35 million copies sold as of November 2025 (even reaching that milestone faster than The Witcher 3: Wild Hunt). However, it achieved those sales even without giving anyone any reason to believe that PS5 Pro support is on the way. Even if adding support did nothing to boost sales, it recognized that it’s a feature that a subset of players, however small, wanted for a long time, and set about delivering something it never promised.

Furthermore, despite the game still selling extremely well, it’s removing any barriers to entry. Last year, Cyberpunk 2077 was added to PlayStation Plus Extra/Premium’s Game Catalog. Last month, it debuted for Game Pass Ultimate and Premium, allowing even more players to carve out their legend in Night City.

Even when it released the Nintendo Switch 2 version last year, it didn’t simply port the Ultimate Edition over and call it a day. It delivered solid performance in both handheld and docked modes while adding motion controls, Joy-Con 2 mouse support, gyroscopic aiming, cross-saves, and even touchscreen support for the menus. If that wasn’t enough, the entire base game and Phantom Liberty shipped on a cartridge rather than a Game-Key Card. You bought it, you owned it. No additional shenanigans.

Then again, all of this – the PS5 Pro update, Game Pass and PS Plus releases, and Switch 2 Edition – is just born from a love for the game and the players who brought them to the dance. It’s one of the reasons why CD Projekt RED continued releasing new updates even after dropping the biggest yet.

Features like the Metro System, listening to radio stations on foot, replayable car races, gangs that actively pursue you in the open world if you annoy them enough, vehicle paint jobs, brand new vehicles, an overhauled Photo Mode, Auto Drive – things that you’d otherwise take for granted. Did it have to add all this and more in, even roping in Virtuos? No, but it went ahead anyway and made it all free.

Given everything that happened at launch – the lying, the deception, the disappointment (even when the game had several excellent qualities that held up over the years) – it’s understandable to be cynical about CD Projekt RED. There are still many people who won’t quote-unquote forgive the developer for what happened, and no amount of support will get them to change their minds.

But that doesn’t change the fact that the team put their hearts and souls into this game, and then a little extra on top for more than five years. There was no guarantee that all of this would recoup any goodwill, much less build excitement for the studio’s next projects – The Witcher 4 and Project Orion, aka Cyberpunk 2. Look at the sheer number of titles that are cancelled, month in and month out, despite pouring years and millions into the drain, never mind those that can’t even make it to market.

And yet, here we are, with currently an 88 percent “Very Positive” rating on Steam (94 percent if you consider the recent reviews), a presence that works hand in hand with transmedia like Edgerunners, and near-universal acclaim by those whose story in Night City changed them in ways they could never imagine.

It gives new meaning to the phrase “City of Legends.” Even if the megacorps run rampant, making people’s lives miserable, or crime is at an all-time high, or consumerism has led to all kinds of brand new societal nightmares. Even if it seems Johnny is right about dropping just one more nuke, it all comes together in a way where the player – and their encounters with everyone else – really mattered.

Of course, nothing says that CD Projekt RED has to stop here. With plans to scale its teams to over 450 developers by 2027 for Cyberpunk 2, there’s still plenty of room for additional updates and support. If The Witcher 3: Wild Hunt can supposedly receive that long-rumored free DLC, especially with The Witcher 4 next up on the developer’s release docket, then there’s nothing that says it can’t return to 2077. Maybe it’s a new tactic – using its existing games to hype up their sequels (and making some money in the process). Since the PS5 Pro update is finally here, perhaps that bit about no plans for additional DLCs or expansions won’t hold water for much longer.

We can’t really say for sure until it happens. Until then, we’re returning to Night City – slightly older, perhaps slightly wiser, with fond memories and a drive to make new ones. Because if The City of Dreams has proven anything for fans, it’s that some legends will never fade away.

Note: The views expressed in this article are those of the author and do not necessarily represent the views of, and should not be attributed to, GamingBolt as an organization.

You might think that a bunch of people who liked the game as much as we did would obviously be okay with its problems. But that’s far from it. It’s just that we think that love it or hate it, Starfield doubles down on the kind of experience it wants to be, for better or worse. It’s a divisive title not because it falls into the binary viewpoint of good or bad, but because it chooses to be strong in ways that come with specific trade-offs.

Its very strengths are a double-edged sword, the magic of what it truly is clashing with the frustrations that its formula brings to the table. Wondering how that could be? Join us on a trip through Starfield’s star-studded landscape and find out why it has been praised and belittled for just being itself.

The Grand Scheme of Things

Let’s start with Starfield’s size and scope. Its “world” is a literal galaxy just waiting for you to engage with it. As a sci-fi adventure aimed at letting you carve out your own name in the stars, it’s astoundingly large, and deliciously grandiose. Its ambitions rival its size, and perhaps even help define it with the magic of hopping between systems as you engage with the many factions you come across, their quest lines and other distractions making your time with it an adventure that even you can’t really predict from moment-to-moment.

There’s also its emphasis on player agency, with the world at your fingertips and a ton of things for you to do at any given moment. There are factions to choose between, ships to build, planets to scan and learn more about before you visit them, smuggling, mining, and, of course, the RPG side of things to allow you to truly make your character feel like an extension of yourself, a small but shining speck among the stars. It’s a fantasy that truly puts you at the center of it all while still impressing upon you that you’re only a part of a larger universe.

That’s all well and good but we can see where players who didn’t resonate with these strengths are coming from. The game’s scale should have felt seamless, but its systems dictated that the massive universe you’re let loose in was fragmented into menus that got in the way of hopping between planets, loading screens pulling you out of the spell that it cast on you. Its universe felt like a collection of different maps, none of which fed into each other for players who were unable to find their footing.

The very freedom that we loved so much could feel like the game refusing to connect with its spacefarers. Players diving into it around the time of its release were used to their games easing them into whatever the experience was selling, instead of leaving them to discover it all on their own terms. Where other titles provided carefully curated journeys, Starfield was about the journey itself, a distinction that would take time many of its players did not really have at their disposal to make.

The game’s size, meant to inspire a sense of awe and wonder, felt like it was deliberately placing walls that its players had to get past. The freedom that was meant to allow players to craft their own adventure felt like they were left adrift among the stars, without a clear path to the destiny they knew was waiting for them in the blackness of space.

It was a game that asked for time that many of its players could not, or would not, choose to give it.

Learning To Love It

We’ll be honest, we’re pretty clear on why so many of you didn’t click with Starfield right off the bat. Its systems can get overwhelming at first glance, and it does take a bit of time to settle into a routine that works for you. But once you get there, the game opens up into something you might have even adored. The faction questlines we mentioned earlier? We couldn’t get enough of them. The same goes for the slow burn of building our characters from the ground up, engaging with the side content, and the sense of just existing in a world outside of the real one, but just as diverse and unpredictable.

Of course, all of this must factor in the knowledge that Starfield was a game from Bethesda, whose track record of great titles meant that all of these factors were a given. But it also meant that this was a game that needed patience, and a willingness to endure its learning curve. You could even say that we stuck with the game for the sake of a thorough review, and you would have a valid point. But the fact that all of us continued to play it long after we put down our thoughts should speak to that argument.

But as we looked deeper, we began to see a few split seams in the experience, with Bethesda’s usual quirks coming into play. There was a definite stiffness to some parts of our time in the Constellation, and a lack of polish in certain areas. Conversations in which the person we were talking to lacked enough expressions to make it feels real immediately come to mind, along with a bunch of systems that could feel outdated when games like Red Dead Redemption 2 and Baldur’s Gate 3 were already out there.

But again, this was a game from Bethesda, a studio that was known for the eccentricities that its games had in play. Did we think that the fact that Starfield had them felt oddly reassuring in a way? Sure. But did we also think that their presence in a game as ambitious as this one felt like the studio was clinging to its old ways in a world of video games that were rapidly evolving? Also yes.

That’s because to the average gamer, who in all probability has a limited amount of time to engage with a game, first impressions can be hard to shake off. Starfield does take too long to reveal its depth, and it’s very likely that for many gamers, it asked too much of them too early. It demanded patience from a modern audience that was quite unwilling to wait when there were other games that came out with far more accessibility than this one. Understandable, of course, but it was also sad to see so many potential fans miss out on all the fun.

But what exactly were they missing?

Living In The Moment

To us, Starfield was clearly better enjoyed as an RPG sandbox, despite it coming across as a game that was all about getting lost in space. We found joy in engaging with its many factions, navigating the complexities that arose from such interactions along with choosing between all the possibilities for our characters that were laid out in front of us like a very enticing buffet. We bought homes and ships, choosing to express ourselves on the ground while our forays into space were designed to serve specific goals that we had in mind.

But we can see how people who expected to be flying off into the unknown could have felt let down by a lack of organic discovery in the early hours of the game, and in how its moment-to-moment gameplay seemed geared towards keeping their metaphorical boots firmly on the ground. To those players, the pull of gravity on the planets they were exploring might have felt too strong for them to shake off, and rightly so. It was a matter of mismatched expectations that was a major source of the backlash it received.

And with the game finally dropping on the PS5, we expect that the same old arguments are going to be hashed out between all of the newcomers diving into the adventure for the first time. It’s a situation that’s oddly similar to Crimson Desert, another title that doubles down on its identity and dared to take an approach that earned it some backlash even as others have been unable to put it down.

The divisive discourse around Starfield isn’t going to fade because it’s baked into the game’s very foundations, and not from temporary chatter. It may not be the universally loved RPG that many of you might be wanting it to be, but that very divisiveness points to a game that’s special in its own right thanks to how committed it is to a specific vision. The way in which the very facets of its experience that appeal to its fans can be reasons for its others to train their guns on it has made it a fascinating source of conversations around games that make demands of their players, instead of the other way round.

But for those of you who meet it on its terms and tune it to its wavelength, you’re in for a romp through space that’s going to stay with you long after you move on to other titles. And for that, we’re glad that Starfield exists.

Note: The views expressed in this article are those of the author and do not necessarily represent the views of, and should not be attributed to, GamingBolt as an organization.

While there was a sense that the development team was truly attempting something different and grandiose, attempting to recreate the vastness of space, emptiness and all, the biggest problem is how it effectively fractured Bethesda’s built-in audience. Those who “got it” could vibe with the exploration, the mood, and the sheer scale of it all. Others wanted something more akin to Skyrim or, at the very least, Fallout, which it became very clear this was not.

Updates came and went. Shattered Space gave even the most dedicated fans second-hand embarrassment (and that’s despite having some really good dungeons). Then there was the great emptiness of 2025, where Bethesda promised big things, and ultimately kept its head down to work on the future. Well, the future is now, and the now is Free Lanes. So is Starfield “fixed” so to speak?

Not exactly, and really, you should have seen that response coming when Todd Howard himself said not to call it Starfield 2.0. Todd Howard not talking a game up through the stratosphere? A cold day for sure.

But he’s not wrong. Free Lanes is a massive pass at all the different systems and mechanics within Starfield, expanding on them in ways that befit the originally hyped up space-faring fantasy. It’s not so much about giving players something to do as offering more experiences in this vast universe. Because while space can be boring and empty, that doesn’t necessarily mean that Bethesda’s take has to be the same.

That’s best reflected in Cruise Mode, which more facilitates the self-titled Free Lanes themselves. Before, players would endure a loading screen to travel from planet to planet, even those within the same system. Then another loading screen to land on said planet, and another to leave. And while everyone focused on the loading screens – for good reason, because so many in quick succession really hurt the pacing – it was really the lack of stuff to do in space that really grinded many players’ gears. It’s not about getting lucky and finding something, be it an NPC or a space battle – it was more than life in space just felt non-existent.

Cruise Mode addresses that immediately by allowing you to travel, manually, between planets in a star system. Right away, your ship isn’t just some box that gets you from point A to point B – it’s now a second home. Get up, stretch your virtual legs, talk to some crew members, and maybe go and improve your ship with the new X-Tech. Or reroll perks on your Legendary weapons while working towards the new Rank 4s.

That space itself has new points of interest that can feed into that gameplay loop, which is all the more incredible. Maybe you’ll find a quaint bit of wreckage one second and engage in a dog fight against ships in another. Sometimes those dogfights will pull you out of Cruise Mode, forcing a scramble. Then there are the new Incursions added via the Terran Armada DLC, which provide another noteworthy activity to grind out (and earn some new weapons).

Of course, Bethesda didn’t stop there. It addressed one of the biggest complaints with Starfield by adding more PoI variety on its planets. Granted, this is one of those features where I would scoff and assume that it added, say, a dozen or so. However, based on feedback from the community, the variety has shot up. One player on Reddit, who would usually encounter the same point of interest pre-update, played for three hours straight, going through 30 unique types without ever encountering the same one twice. And that’s even after attempting to force them to appear. It doesn’t necessarily mean all of them are brand new – just that on top of the additions, you’re less likely to find the same PoI as quickly.

Because these locations – and dungeons – can provide X-Tech, you’re more incentivized than ever to explore random planets. There’s a constantly rewarding gameplay loop that also feeds into the main purpose of Starfield – to explore, both in space and on planets. The best part is that you’re not just juicing those Legendaries for no reason, as new enemy modifiers are in place for those who want more spice to their encounters. Sure, you could always increase enemy health and damage, but this kind of ARPG-level of buffs to otherwise familiar threats is a better way to make combat feel fresh.

Then you have the new ship modules, updates to outposts that allow for quickly plopping down a habitat module, fully furnished, and a shared storage for all your bases, a database so you can actually track down different resources and keep tabs on your outposts – the list goes on. If you’ve amassed tons of Credits, great news – you can now buy an asteroid base. That’s not even getting into all the non-DLC quests or Anchor Point Station, where you can find them (and various new characters).

So it’s less that Free Lanes – and by extension, Terran Armada – have “fixed” Starfield so much as leaned much further into Bethesda’s vision for the game. It already had this massive universe that players could explore – there was just very little reason to do so after a point, besides taking in the atmosphere. With these changes, it’s certainly catering to those who already poured dozens of hours into the game, giving them new stuff to play with while also fixing glaring issues like the loot from Expert and Master level locks, or bugs with various quests.

I think it goes even further, though, addressing a problem that even new players noticed at a mid-way point – namely, a drive. Because for all the hundreds of planets that you could explore, spaceships to build, abandoned locations to clear out, and quests to complete, being driven to really delve deeper into this sandbox, appreciating its nuances and joys, became difficult.

Free Lanes isn’t so much a giant leap for Starfield, so much as dozens upon dozens of significant little steps. And quite frankly, that’s what this game needed. More complexity that ties into what’s already there. More depth. More reasons to get out and see what the universe has to offer. Something to sink your teeth into beyond all the surface-level trifles and grinds.

That’s probably why Bethesda didn’t agree with the 2.0 label (even if it’s not shy to call this the best version of the game yet). As lead creative producer Tim Lamb notes, “There’s a narrative baked into what that label would mean.” Instead, the team examined “several systems where we had interest or had heard things from the community, and we tried to level up a number of them.” As such, a “number of systems have been made incrementally better,” there’s a “ton of content,” and there are “things that the team is excited about.”

Will those “things” make Starfield as vaunted as Skyrim or even Oblivion? No one can say at this point, but if No Man’s Sky, Cyberpunk 2077, The Division 2, and many more have taught us anything, it’s that fantastic experiences are often built brick by bloody brick. Here’s hoping for several more of the nice kind for Bethesda.

Note: The views expressed in this article are those of the author and do not necessarily represent the views of, and should not be attributed to, GamingBolt as an organization.

So believe me when I say that it feels a little bad to point out something that really breaks the game. No, not in a fun, boss-deleting way like infinite explosive arrows, but a major design flaw. What makes it even crazier is that you won’t notice it until you’re already dozens of hours in.

Assume, for a moment, that you’re not a permanent resident of Hernand who knows everyone in Howling Hill Camp better than your own family. Imagine that you’ve been traveling throughout Pywel, liberating quarries, taking down the Lunar Court, cleansing Sanctums (and taking on their various Blades), and sending the Black Bears packing. With each new location returned to the nicer factions, the world becomes that much safer. However, it also becomes emptier.

What does that mean? Well, in a nutshell, enemies that you’ve slain or simply driven away by prolonged butchery of their allies don’t respawn. That’s the so-called game-breaking design bug. Enemies stop respawning.

And I’ll be honest – it didn’t really hit me at first. Why should enemies respawn, especially after clearing out bandit crawls and other hives of scum and villainy? If I’m systemically hunting the Black Bears, why would they stick together? Heck, they thought they annihilated the Greymanes in the beginning, so what better karma than to see them so thoroughly purged, including any enemies that should patrol the world. But what does that mean in a game like Crimson Desert, where combat is one of the core appeals?

Think about it. As you’re collecting Abyss Artifacts, what’s one of the biggest thrills? Unlocking a new skill and trying it out, especially if it’s a combat skill. How about unlocking a new piece of gear or weapon? Or discovering the four elements? Sure, there’s more than enough exploration, and several systems to facilitate that, but for the most part, the entire purpose of that is to obtain cool stuff, either for the sake of personal upgrades or wiping out enemies in even more extravagant ways. Trying out different builds is another major appeal, especially when you start slotting different ability cores into the same weapon.

Without any enemies to fight, that’s one major aspect of the power fantasy removed. It gets even worse when factoring in the Sealed Abyss Artifacts. Not all 141 of them require combat to unlock, but there are still plenty that do. If you’re lucky, you would have completed Trials like defeating five enemies with a shield without taking damage, or slaying 30 enemies within 30 seconds with a spear, and not lack any targets for assassinating five sleeping enemies at night, or taking out an elite using only guns.

Speaking of guns, this is a great time to discuss Damiane and Oongka. I’ve mentioned this before in my qualms with the progression – how you need separate Abyss Artifacts to upgrade their skills. Toss in gear and even with the new Refinement Tokens, it becomes extremely challenging to min-max both characters alongside Kliff, much less experiment with their builds. If you decided to leave playing as them until the late game (which you’ll probably do, given the lack of resources), then there’s an absolute lack of enemies to fight. And there goes any reason to really bother with these other unique characters.

Of course, it’s not like there isn’t other stuff to do. You could challenge different optional bosses (albeit only once), complete various puzzles, or attend a whole range of activities that don’t require any combat. However, this kind of issue is one that other open-world games solved years – heck, some more than a decade – before. As much as we make fun of the Radiant quests in Skyrim and Fallout 4, the fact that they’re even present means no shortage of combat encounters. And once again, Crimson Desert is a game where combat is the backbone. Take out any reason for players to fight anything, and as many have noted, it goes from being an open-world action-adventure to simply an open-world adventure.

Now, there are several ways that the development team could address this. The short-term solution is to simply allow enemies to recapture camps, forts, and whatnot, forcing the player to liberate them again, and that’s a decent band-aid. However, some have suggested a more detailed faction wars system. Imagine the dozens of different factions battling each other for supremacy, and Kliff being able to ally or go against each of them for unique benefits. It may even provide an incentive to use the Mission Dispatch for sending Greymanes to different fronts. Considering the sheer number of factions, it’s kind of surprising that Crimson Desert didn’t ship with this already.

Granted, this could mess with the Contributions system (not to mention the whole thing about Kliff and his crew being morally good), but it certainly creates a whole lot more intrigue than simply, “The good guys won, the bad guys disappeared, the end.” It’s something that probably could have been more easily justifiable if there were more morally grey factions to work with, rather than strictly good/evil groups, but I digress.

Another, more straightforward fix is to introduce New Game Plus. All your Abyss Artifacts, equipment, money, skills, inventory, and Howling Hill Camp upgrades carry over to a new playthrough. The entire map becomes available to liberate once more, and while you can still use any unlocked mounts, special exceptions like Blackstar require playing through the story again. Besides tougher foes, the developers could spice things up by introducing modifiers, perhaps even new attacks or late-game enemies appearing much earlier. Otherwise, add some new activities that players can engage with ad nauseam for their combat needs. A horde mode. Boss rush. A siege mode. Mission replay. The list goes on.

Some may argue that the current system is fine – it’s a video game after all, one that already provides hundreds of hours of entertainment. Why do you need it to last forever? Of course, this isn’t what anyone is arguing – simply that if there’s content, much less an entire combat system, that hinges on fighting regular enemies, then gradually removing said threats as you progress doesn’t make any kind of sense. I don’t always need challenging encounters to limit-test my end-game build. Sometimes, I just want to let loose against a crowd of jabronis and watch them fly amid the explosions. Why deny someone that simple pleasure? Furthermore, why give them all these optional challenges via Sealed Abyss Artifacts and then not even give them the means to complete them?

Once again, there are multiple ways that the development team could approach this issue, but I wouldn’t be surprised if it were already working on something to address it. That’s one benefit of speaking up and letting them know about Crimson Desert’s shortcomings – sooner or later, it will do something, creating a better experience for everyone. And really, that’s all anyone can really ask for.

Note: The views expressed in this article are those of the author and do not necessarily represent the views of, and should not be attributed to, GamingBolt as an organization.

But what’s really surprising is the feeling that the entire experience is just getting started, with an opening region that’s so rich and four others that are looking as jam-packed with engaging content. I chuckled to myself at jokes saying that the developer could have titled the game ‘Hernand’ and called it a day, and I must say there is some merit to that thought.

But is an opening region that’s this large a sign of a game that’s full of bloat? I’d say no, as Hernand isn’t a long checklist of repetitive activities, but a gradually unfolding story within a story that’s so engaging, it trumps my curiosity to see what the other four regions have to offer. Join me as I take you through why I think that’s the case.

More Than A Tutorial Zone

I’m probably not the only one among us who thought that my time in Hernand was going to be short, a sort of introduction to a bunch of mechanics before I was sent off into Pywel to find a path to Kliff’s destiny. After all, there was such a massive map to explore on the ground, and The Abyss calling to me from high up above.

But Hernand’s intricate politics and the interdependencies between its various factions are just too compelling to leave behind, making it feel like a destination that could put even the most elaborate RPGs to shame. It’s got the density of a sandbox that’s usually in the later stages of a massive game, and just uncovering all it’s landmarks is such a huge part of why it draws you back in.

There are sealed artifacts to pick up, well-hidden caves with valuable loot to discover, strongbox puzzles that took me a while to find and solve, crafting recipes and manuals for food and gear that I expect will serve me well when I finally venture in Demeniss or Calphade, and of course, bosses that have had me quite happy to stay put among its mountains and plains.

That covers Hernand’s size, but what about its scope?

A Complex And Nuanced Landscape

If I were to describe what I see Hernand as after all this time with it, I’d say it’s a vast swathe of land with the city as its beating heart. I’m floored by how a simple meeting with the Marquis de Serkis has thrust me, and Kliff by extension, into an entire life of solving problems for nobles, and improving the region so that its people remember the Greymanes for a long time to come.

Each quest chain starts off so simple before it becomes an elaborate loop of clearing out enemy encampments, battling literal armies, taking on intriguing bosses, solving the complex mechanical layers of a desolate castle, ringing bells to summon the mysterious residents of a hidden village, climbing atop a literal Ent to gain access to said village, and so much more!

And it’s all so subtly woven into the region’s political fabric that Hernand feels alive in a way that makes it so compelling that my efforts to venture into other areas somehow ends with me back in it again, exploring a new part of the area in the service of one faction or another.

Finding Factions

Let me give you a rundown of all the different factions I’ve met, each of them introduced to me so organically I barely even noticed how rapidly the list of people who were depending on the Greymanes began to grow.

There were the Goldleaf Merchants and House Serkis to begin with, each of whom I’m sure we’ve all encountered through the main story. House Celeste gets quickly added to that list the minute you pick up your first bounty poster. Of course, the Greymanes get woven in after setting up shop on Howling Hill. That’s four factions, already, each bringing new avenues to engage with the land in multiple ways.

House Robert, House Grace and House Alfonso quickly get thrown in as you make your way across the land, as do the Witches, The Shia, a whole bunch of vendors who need favors and give you very useful rewards in return, strangers who look to your kindness as you encounter them on the road, and of course, several story quests to begin sending Kliff towards other regions.

One of those requests pointed me in the direction of a fishing village, a quest that soon led me to stumble upon the Catfish Pirates, a meeting that ended up taking up many an entertaining hour! It’s almost as if Hernand’s size was a deliberate choice made to contain its scope within a boundary that would allow it to be its own game map within a larger one.

Remember those story quests I mentioned? If you’re wondering if they’re the reason I haven’t left Hernand, they’re not. Allow me to explain.

A Citizen By Choice

Yes, Crimson Desert’s story might not be its strongest feature. But the ones in Hernand have largely been interesting, between the main narrative and my Greymanes looking to me to help them rebuild the faction. I haven’t moved on from hernand because I find the story to be weak, but rather because it’s too damn hard to leave all my business there unfinished.

It’s presented so well that it has begun to feel like home to me, and I feel invested in its welfare. I’ve spent time with nobles who have helped me find a safe space for my Greymane brethren, while I assisted them with a variety of unique problems in return. I’ve invested in the land, using my Greymane camp’s resources to help its people.

I’ve helped people in villages by freeing those taken prisoner by bandits or pirates and liberating their homes, where I’m now welcomed. I’ve sent my Greymanes to build bridges across crucial trade routes while I’ve helped clean the place up, getting it decidedly free of Bleed Bandits, Fundamentalist Goblins, and Bandits. I took out the one leading the Goldleaf Merchants astray and helped stabilize trade in the region.

I’m now fast friends with its local merchants. I’m more or less a citizen of Hernand myself, and I’ve prided myself on being one that is well-liked and respected.

That isn’t a weak story, but a very intelligent design. And I want to experience and savor it all. But that doesn’t mean I’m not going to leave at some point. Here’s why I’m looking forward to that day.

A Fifth Of The Pywel Pie

As the first exploreable of five big ones in Crimson Desert, the fact that Hernand feels like a place you can’t help but come back to speaks very well for the rest of the experience. It means that Crimson Desert has managed to make its players want to stay, which can be tricky for any open-world experience.

If the rest of Pywel is as densely packed with content that feeds into itself, I think Crimson Desert is going to take up all my personal gaming time for the rest of the year, with perhaps only Phantom Blade Zero pulling me away from it. I’ve been playing it as I eat, and think about it when I’m not holding a controller in my hand. I’ve even begun talking through gravelly grunts and an accent, much to the chagrin of my social circle.

With such an immersive opening area, it can be easy to worry that the developer has overplayed its hand by making Hernand this enjoyable, making the other four regions of Crimson Desert feel less intricate and dense by way of comparison. But my limited forays into new areas have given me enough new quest threads to pull at that I’m convinced it isn’t the case. The very existence of that concern is a testament to Hernan’s quality, if you ask me.

The way Hernand is structured is a great showcase of how confident game design can make experiences so unique their very existence becomes the source of discourse around a game, and a lot of it being good. Hernand’s kind of been the stage for Crimson Desert’s recovery from a slow start if you think about it.

It’s a place that has become personal, and I’m hoping that the rest of Pywel is the same. I’d truly be one with its world when I finally put it down if that’s the case. And on that note, I return to Hernand to continue building the Greymane legacy, one enjoyable step at a time.

Note: The views expressed in this article are those of the author and do not necessarily represent the views of, and should not be attributed to, GamingBolt as an organization.

In case it wasn’t obvious, we’re talking about Grand Theft Auto 6. The once and future king of all open-world games. The magnum opus, the game to end all games, and which everyone is trying desperately to avoid. Surprised about that supposed August release window for Lords of the Fallen 2? Or that Halo: Campaign Evolved could launch before September, while Marvel’s Wolverine is launching halfway through?

Such is the power of Rockstar Games and the Grand Theft Auto name. No one wants their release to go figuratively toe-to-toe with Grand Theft Auto 6, much less hang around in the same vicinity. Because when you spend as much as Rockstar North reportedly has on employee wages alone, you can afford the breathing room.

Recently, fans discovered just how much that may be through public records maintained by the UK government agency, Companies House. Registered as Rockstar Games UK Limited, these outline wages and salaries from March 31st, 2019, to March 31st, 2025. Remember when Take-Two said development began in earnest around 2020? Rockstar North reportedly spent £191 million from 2019 to 2020 – about $252.6 million in what we can assume was pre-production alone.

Consider for a moment that Cyberpunk 2077, currently the seventh most expensive game ever made, spent roughly $526 million across all versions, marketing included, when adjusted for inflation in 2025. Let’s continue.

As production seemingly started rolling, costs increased gradually from March 2020 to 2021, with £223 million spent and then far more from 2021 to 2022, with £346 million spent. And while that marked the most expensive period of development per these records, the next two years would see the developer spend £316 million and £315 million.

Its latest report from March 31st, 2024, to the same date in 2025 indicates £282 million spent on salaries. Of course, we already know that Grand Theft Auto 6 got delayed – twice, in fact – and Rockstar has yet to reveal how much was spent from 2025 to 2026, never mind the other nine months leading up to its launch. However, if you calculate the current amount reportedly spent on employee wages alone, it’s about £1.6 billion or roughly $2.1 billion.

Disclaimer: While Companies House does “basic checks on documents,” ensuring they’re “fully completed and signed,” it doesn’t have “statutory power of capability” to verify their accuracy. So while these records are a strong indicator of how much has been spent, you shouldn’t take them as full confirmation. Not that Rockstar or Take-Two will willingly confirm the same if you ask nicely, but I digress.

The most expensive game ever developed is, believe it or not, Monopoly Go!, with $1.026 billion spent on development and marketing when adjusted for inflation last year. Star Citizen, which started releasing modules in 2013 – the same year that Grand Theft Auto 5 launched, conveniently enough – and Squadron 42 have already cost over $955 million. If these records for Grand Theft Auto 6 are accurate, then just based on developer salaries alone, it would be the most expensive game ever made. And again, that hasn’t even factored in marketing or costs spent on support studios. Heck, 21 months have yet to be accounted for. The total may cross $3 billion in wages when all is said and done.

However, as of March 2025, about $2.1 billion. It’s simply mind-boggling, but then again, is it? A former graphics programmer seemingly revealed that they worked on “next-generation procedural breakable glass” for vehicles and props over the course of three years and two months (among other things). With reports of all the other technical wizardry that the game will have – a “revolutionary new system” for real-time physically simulated water, more precise deformations for vehicles, a real-time weather system with heavy gameplay implications – it’s not surprising. Then again, there’s also that part in the documents about a monthly average of 1,744 employees at Rockstar, which is also an insane number in its own right.

“They’ll get that back in the first week of launch,” you’re no doubt thinking about that amount, and as incredulous as it sounds, you’re not wrong. Just think back to the release of Grand Theft Auto 5, which earned $800 million on its first day and $1 billion in three. By comparison, the sequel is on a whole other level when it comes to hype. It’s been touted as the savior for an industry that’s notoriously lagging in both hardware and software sales. It’s Take-Two’s cash cow for the next decade or so. Amid concerns of rising inflation, global tariffs and the economy in general, no expense has apparently been spared for Grand Theft Auto 6. Just like for Grand Theft Auto 5, and just like for Red Dead Redemption 2.

Conveniently, an interview by Kiwi Talkz with former audio designer Rob Carr talks about Rockstar’s thought process. Speaking on technical limitations – “’Each soundbank has to be X, Y, and Z, these are your limitations for every mission. These are the technical constraints,'” he said. But creative constraints? “’There isn’t any. Go nuts’” is apparently how the company operates. Which doesn’t mean that its teams can logically fit in everything that they want – just that, “It’s easier to dial it down, you know, dial it back, go too much and then strip some fat off than it is to not do enough and then have to push for that extra five or 10 percent at the end of the project,” says Carr. Which makes even more sense if Rockstar wants to instead spend that time on bug testing and polishing.

Nevertheless, it speaks to how the company has been when developing its games, and Take-Two always gives it that leeway for a reason. Other developers and publishers avoid it for the very same. What would ordinarily inspire outrage in terms of the sheer amount spent on development thus far – especially with criticism over ballooning cost in triple-A development – is pretty much a given. Creating an unrealistic standard that the genre has no hope in hell of ever reaching? Par for the course, really. It’s almost as if Grand Theft Auto is in a completely different realm that’s just plain untouchable, regardless of everything else. Not because this is how games are made, but because that’s how Rockstar wants to make them, all else be damned.

I’d like to believe spending hundreds of millions doesn’t automatically translate into a quality release, much less one that will see the light of day – look no further than reports of Eidos Montreal cancelling a project whose budget apparently blew well past nine figures. Nor should it be taken as the norm, despite the general direction of triple-A games over the past decade or more.

Instead, it can be best viewed as Rockstar doing Rockstar things, ensuring that Grand Theft Auto 6 stands out. It will be players’ de facto choice when it comes to spending $80, because there is no way it could retail for cheaper after these figures have come to light. It will help justify all those re-releases and special editions, all those double-dippers when the PC version rolls around. And maybe, that’s enough, but really, it’s because Rockstar probably doesn’t know how else to make games. With less than nine months before launch, either thought is scary and we probably can’t even imagine to what extent.

Note: The views expressed in this article are those of the author and do not necessarily represent the views of, and should not be attributed to, GamingBolt as an organization.

Of course, it heard those complaints, loud and clear, and went about nerfing certain bosses and enemies. Attacks that massively chunked stamina while blocking are now far more manageable – from the storm that is approaching to hard knocks on a wooden board.

Which isn’t the worst thing in theory. It felt a little odd to be taking so much damage pre-launch, barely finding windows to attack because everyone possessed an ultimate attack with invincibility throughout. And that was even while keeping up with upgrading my gear, the tedium of mining ores and chopping trees mixing with the real joy that is exploration and uncovering various nooks and corners.

However, the development team went even further and decided to further sand off the rough edges. Gliding? Now much easier thanks to lower stamina consumption. Resources? Far more plentiful, as chests containing the same could be discovered while exploring. Players discovered more tech for getting around faster, which went hand in hand with the gliding changes to make it far easier to collect Abyss Artifacts and Abyss Cressets – seriously, go to the Crimson Desert, they’re just waiting around. Which meant that even if you hit a wall with Abyss Artifacts required for upgrades, well, you would have plenty on hand. Even the new Refinement Tokens made it so that any gear that you discovered could be quickly leveled up to become viable.

So, with how much more seamless it is to explore the furthest reaches of Pywel, gather resources for upgrades, and even research how to obtain all the best gear, some players have taken the seemingly logical next step: Asking for difficulty options. One proposition involved making the game even more challenging on Hard mode than it was at launch, effectively creating a “survival” mode of sorts. That would mean long cooldowns on some of the best food, the removal of question marks on the map, fewer Palmer Pills, and so on.

The idea is a weird tightrope because while players feel like they’re overpowered – which is rich, considering the number of posts about spending 50-plus hours and still being in Hernand – they also like being overpowered. While there is the joke about taking a break from a boss and exploring for 10 hours, only to come back and curbstomp it, I don’t think there’s any amount of balancing that could really address that.

Others feel it’s the friction that gave Crimson Desert its true challenge, whether it’s being gated by the progression or taking more time to get around. Which is funny, given how many more positive reviews and players it received on Steam since the last two major patches.

I think it comes down to admitting a couple of hard truths about the boss fights – that, despite how challenging they may be, some of them just don’t feel all that enjoyable. I won’t name and shame specific offenders (*cough* Hexe *cough*), but for all the bosses that inevitably stood out, there were a few that felt like they could use a bit more Q&A. Less invincibility windows, more attacks that actually feel good to punish when you actually avoid them.

One also has to realize that in a game like this, it’s the player who really defines the difficulty. Look at The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild. You could effectively beeline it to the final boss from the start with only three hearts if you so chose, ignoring the rest of the world. Whether you actually reached it or not is a different story, but you very well could (and there are plenty who have). Crimson Desert isn’t exactly like that – progressing through the story is a must for reaching the big bad, yet the actual game revolves around the larger world.

As you complete requests, stab through waterfalls, mine materials, and discover new ones, Kliff will passively unlock the means to become stronger. Even if you’re not actively seeking any Abyss Artifacts, a little meter on the side will fill up with every kill, awarding one when it reaches completion. The only real way to challenge yourself is to ignore it, and honestly, going down that path of not using certain things just for the sake of some difficulty can be a thorny one. Where do you stop to hit that sweet spot of challenge?

Let’s not forget that even Breath of the Wild implemented a Master Mode at the end of the day, introducing a tougher tier of enemies, buffing the already existing foes, and even tossing more serious threats into early game environments. It’s not completely out of the realm of possibility for Crimson Desert, and I don’t see the developer locking it behind paid DLC. Maybe for New Game Plus, if players are lucky.

But introducing level scaling, ensuring that every enemy matches your own? I don’t think that’s the right path towards a more challenging experience. When you’re motivated to engage with the world and rewarded in either slight increments of power or strong new tools, it just feels annoying to see your enemies leveling up for free. Besides, it kind of interferes with one thing that many enjoy about the combat, namely, the ability to wreck crowds. The progression also needs some reworking because entering a new region and exploring it to find materials that would inevitably go into upgrading your current loadout is part of the fun. Having stronger enemies may be ideal for some to “test” their broken builds on, but after what point does it just feel ridiculous to see random Demenissian Guard A get up after taking multiple Explosive Arrows to the face?

Of course, it’s still early days for Crimson Desert. Despite launching about two weeks ago, it’s been in discourse for what feels like years at this point. There are still several other areas that need improvement, numerous mechanics that could be further iterated. As much as I see the development team wanting to address every bit of feedback for those currently playing, there’s something about taking the time and really working through what it wants to do with the game. The bigger picture, so to speak.

In the meantime, players should enjoy the current cycle as much as possible – fighting monsters and inevitably turning Kliff into one that can either tank the heaviest of blows or roast bosses with a single combo. That in itself can be a catharsis for many, even at the cost of the few who seek a higher challenge.

Note: The views expressed in this article are those of the author and do not necessarily represent the views of, and should not be attributed to, GamingBolt as an organization.

What makes Road to Vostok even more fascinating is the story behind its creation. The game is being developed primarily by a single developer, Antti whose unconventional background lends a unique authenticity to the project. With experience rooted in military training and a deep interest in realistic systems, the solo developer isn’t just building a game but an accurate simulation of survival under extreme conditions. His development approach has been refreshingly transparent, with frequent updates and detailed breakdowns of mechanics shared openly with the community. In an era where large studios often operate behind closed doors, this kind of transparency has helped build trust and excitement around the project which is quite important given the large scale of the experience.

Having a solo developer at the helm means a strong singular vision for the game, and that becomes a lot clearer the more you look at the game’s core design. Road to Vostok is structured around a persistent world divided into interconnected maps, where players scavenge resources, engage with hostile threats, and attempt to push further toward the mysterious “Vostok” zone. There are no safety nets here; supplies are scarce, enemies are lethal, and the environment itself can be just as dangerous as any firefight. The design philosophy leans heavily into nailing realism. Weapons have weight and unpredictability. Inventory management is deliberate and restrictive. Healing isn’t instant. Every action carries friction, and that friction is what creates tension.

For fans of S.T.A.L.K.E.R., that tension is instantly familiar. GSC Game World’s survival outings thrive on atmosphere and unpredictability, creating a world that feels indifferent to the player’s existence. Road to Vostok captures that same spirit, and the environments carry a haunting sense of isolation. From bleak forests to long–abandoned structures and snow-covered outposts, Road to Vostok’s map flaunts a sense of haunting quietness that feels intentional. Dynamic weather and lighting further enhance that atmosphere, transforming familiar locations into entirely different experiences depending on the time of day or environmental conditions.

But what truly elevates Road to Vostok beyond a simple homage to the S.T.A.L.K.E.R. series is its commitment to player-driven storytelling. There are no scripted hero moments here, but rather the game heavily relies on emergent narratives – dynamic stories that arise naturally from systems intertwining with each other and reacting to the player’s decisions. You might spend an hour carefully navigating a hostile zone, avoiding conflict and conserving resources, only to lose everything in a sudden ambush. Or you might stumble upon valuable loot in an abandoned building, turning a desperate run into a triumphant escape. Or you could be stuck in a desperate firefight, and another faction rush in to give you a brief window to escape. These are not pre-designed scenarios; but rather the result of a world that reacts to you without bending to your will.

The star element of Road to Vostok’s design is permadeath which might be its most defining feature. When you die in this game, you don’t simply reload a checkpoint and try again. Your progress, your gear, your hard-earned resources are stripped away, and you obviously need to start from zero. That level of consequence fundamentally changes how the game is played, and puts a massive weight behind each decision. Do you risk pushing deeper into a dangerous area for better loot, or do you retreat and secure what you’ve already gained? Do you engage an enemy that might be guarding valuable supplies, or do you avoid the confrontation altogether? These choices carry real weight because the fail state isn’t just a temporary setback but a complete reset to the starting line.

For fans of S.T.A.L.K.E.R., this is where Road to Vostok feels like a dream come true. You see, the original games experimented with this level of tension, but conventional design constraints often softened the blow. Save systems in contemporary titles allow players to experiment without long-term consequences, but Road to Vostok embraces that intensity fully. It doesn’t just want you to survive; it wants you to fear failure. This singular caveat has the potential to alienate a major chunk of the player base, but this is exactly what makes success meaningful. 

The game’s systems are designed to reinforce a constantly careful mindset at every turn. Inventory management forces players to prioritize essentials. Ammunition isn’t something you can waste casually, and weapons require maintenance and careful handling. Even navigation demands attention, as the absence of hand-holding mechanics means you must completely rely on environmental cues and your own awareness. It feels like an extension of the systems that we have seen in S.T.A.L.K.E.R. or even Far Cry 2, but nothing compares to the intensity of what Road of Vostok is aiming for.

What’s also impressive about Road to Vostok is the fact that it punches well above its weight, especially considering its indie origins. The environments are grounded and realistic, and the production values are quite convincing. Lighting plays a crucial role in establishing the right mood, with natural shadows and atmospheric effects coming together to create a sense of constant unease. There’s a rawness to the presentation that feels appropriate for the game’s tone. The sound design complements this approach, with distant gunshots, rustling foliage, and environmental ambience creating a soundscape that feels alive and unpredictable.

Another aspect that stands out is the game’s commitment to offline, single-player design. In a market saturated with multiplayer survival experiences and live-service models, Road to Vostok takes a more traditional path. It’s not about competing with other players or grinding through seasonal content, but completely embracing a solitary journey through a hostile world, where your only real opponent is the environment itself. And the best part is that it stays relevant for the long-term through its permadeath mechanic and dynamic systems which ensures replayability is high and the world is open to experimentation.

Of course, ambition alone isn’t enough to guarantee success. Road to Vostok is still in development, and many of its systems would need careful balancing to ensure they feel challenging without becoming frustrating. Permadeath continues to be a double-edged sword. It’s great at creating incredible tension, it can also turn frustrating if not implemented thoughtfully. The key will be ensuring that deaths feel fair and players should understand what went wrong and feel motivated to try again rather than discouraged, and that’s not something that most roguelikes have been able to imitate successfully.

What makes the project especially compelling is also how it taps into a very specific niche within the gaming community. Many players crave experiences that respect their time and intelligence and don’t rely on constant rewards or artificial progression systems to maintain engagement. Road to Vostok speaks directly to that audience. It offers a slower, more deliberate kind of satisfaction – one that comes from overcoming adversity through careful planning and execution rather than brute force or heavy guidance.

For fans of S.T.A.L.K.E.R., it represents something even more significant: the evolution of a beloved formula. It takes the core ideas that made those games memorable – the atmosphere, unpredictability, tension and pushes them into a more uncompromising direction. It strips away the little conveniences that these inspirations offer and asks players to fully commit to the experience. That level of authenticity is rare, especially in an industry that often prioritizes accessibility and mass appeal.

In conclusion, Road to Vostok has the potential to become more than just another indie success story.  It could really redefine what hardcore survival games look like in the modern era, and even become an inspiration for other developers to build upon. And if everything falls into place – the systems finally click, the tension holds, and the world remains as compelling in the end product as it looks now – then Road to Vostok might just be a breakout hit. It has great potential to emerge as one of the most talked-about and influential survival games of the near future, and we are hoping that the developer will be able to take those elements and pull off something spectacular.

Note: The views expressed in this article are those of the author and do not necessarily represent the views of, and should not be attributed to, GamingBolt as an organization.