Alright, so there I was, diving headfirst into “Game of Thrones: Kingsroad.” You know, that whole mess of politics and dragons and, well, scheming. So, Netmarble decided, “Hey, let’s toss this madness into a mobile RPG.” Brilliant, right? Well, hold onto that thought.
Spent around 20 hours – yeah, twenty hours, can you believe it? – wandering through the northern lands in the Early Access — still waiting for the full game, just so you know. Anyway, it ain’t the dragons or deceitful pals down south that give me the jitters but this endless grinding. Or maybe it’s the cash drain? Ugh, who even knows.
So, picture this: you’re some “bastard” child – like a whole Jon Snow vibe – trying to shake off that unwanted title. Your dad’s not doing too well, and you’ve got to wander around Westeros, begging the stuck-up nobility to take you seriously. Loads of familiar faces pop up – Jon Snow, Samwell Tarly, the Boltons (yeah, those guy). It’s all set during the show’s fourth season, by the way, like the perfect time for drama overload.
Now before you dive into the chaos of Westeros, you choose your fighting style, right? Knight with a sword, big ol’ Sellsword with an axe, or the sneaky dagger Assassin. Me? I went with the Sellsword. Just seemed right, you know? Swinging that axe around felt like a party trick in a room full of baddies. But hey, if you get bored like me, you can swap to another class without losing your loot – pretty neat, I guess.
But oh boy, the character creation bit! I could change so much – even the sparkle in my character’s hair. Not as intense as some other games, but, still, I got to mess around enough to make my avatar sorta unique.
Anyway – back to Westeros. You don’t just waltz into King’s Landing and bashfully ask to rule a house. No, no. Gotta earn it by running errands, battling ‘creepy-crawlies,’ and hoarding loot to beef up your armor. Sounds cool? Well, don’t get too excited. Kingsroad can’t quite pull it off smoothly. It’s like one of those videos where the background glitches and loops – unsettling and somehow hilarious.
When wandering around, I appreciated the magnificent sights – for about five minutes. Then everything started looking like boring, repetitive animations. It’s like NPCs are split between bizarre mannequins and creepy paintings following you with their eyes. Gave me shivers, honestly.
Movement in the game? Sweet mercy. I felt like I was skating, even on dry land. There I was, attempting martial gracefulness, but it turned into an unintentional slapstick comedy routine. And the combat… oh jeez, the combat. Like fighting identical cardboard cutouts. Just felt flat.
Sometimes, there was this weird magic moment in storyline cutscenes. You get sucked in – find some missing kids, whoop some bandits – you name it. But just as you’re lost in it, the painful grind snaps you back. It’s like, thank you, next?
Occasionally, there were amusing puzzles thrown in, treasures tucked away in forgotten corners – you’re encouraged to explore. Which is cool, makes you feel a bit like an amateur archaeologist… or something.
However, there’s this nagging little “Momentum” requirement idea. Just a fancy way the game tells you to either spend ages leveling up or cough up some real cash to keep going. And the game is shameless about pushing you towards in-game purchases. Die in battle? Fork over some money to revive quicker. Want to travel without hassle? Better have your wallet handy. It’s inescapable, and so infuriating.
Despite the irritating grind and veiled cash traps, there’s something underneath that glimmers a bit like the TV show’s magic. The world can be pretty cinematic sometimes if you’re squinting just right. But no matter how hard you try, you’re poked and prodded to spend money, dragging you out of that medieval fantasy dreamland.
So yeah, I’ve hardly scratched the surface while battling through these grueling 20 hours. There’s a bunch more I’m curious to explore and judge once the full game’s out. But for now, this much is true: in “Game of Thrones: Kingsroad,” you either pay or… well, start counting your digital coffins.