How the Combat Feels in the Early Stages of This RPG

18 December 2024

So, you’ve just dived into this shiny new RPG that everyone’s been screeching about online like caffeinated seagulls. The intro cinematic practically slapped you in the face with its dramatic visuals and over-the-top orchestral music, and now—finally—you’re in control. You’re all hyped up, ready to conquer whatever stands in your way. And then... combat happens. Oh boy, where to even start?

Let’s break down the blood, sweat, tears, and occasional facepalms that come with those early combat experiences in your latest RPG obsession.

Is This Combat or a Button-Mashing Simulator?

You’d think by now game developers would have figured out how to make the first few battles feel epic. But nope! For some reason, the early stages of combat in RPGs are often about as thrilling as reading a microwave manual. Your character waddles onto the battlefield with a rusty butter knife (or worse, their fists), while the game throws you a slime or some other low-budget monster that looks like it escaped from a 90s screensaver.

And what’s the solution to this epic showdown? Button mashing, obviously! You’re not strategizing here—you’re slapping your attack button like it's your snooze alarm on Monday morning. Every swing feels about as impactful as flicking a paperclip at a tank. Seriously, am I supposed to be feeling powerful here? Because all I feel is mildly inconvenienced.

The Tutorial: Or, “How to Feel Dumb in Two Minutes”

Oh joy, the tutorial. Every RPG seems to think you’ve never seen a controller before. “Press X to attack!” No way, Sherlock, I thought X was the button to order pizza.

The game spends more time teaching you how to lock on to an enemy than it does actually letting you fight. And don't even get me started on those unskippable pop-ups. I get it, I can dodge. I can block. But can I live? The tutorial doesn’t just hold your hand—it full-on kidnaps you, tucking you into bed and reading you a bedtime story about button combos.

By the end of it, you’re left wondering if the game trusts you at all. Like, calm down, game! I didn’t just crawl out from under a rock.

Gear Up? More Like Gear Down

Early-stage equipment is a tragic comedy. Your weapon looks like it was stolen from the dollar store clearance bin. Armor? Ha! You’ll be lucky if your character isn’t running around in a glorified potato sack.

And let’s talk about stats. That wooden sword you’re wielding? Yeah, it does about as much damage as a stern glare. The only thing more pitiful is your health bar, which could be knocked out by a stiff breeze. Honestly, it’s like the game is laughing at you. “You want to feel powerful? Not today!”

Enemies So Dumb, They Should Come with a Helmet

Let’s be real. The enemies in the early stages aren’t exactly MENSA candidates. They shuffle towards you with all the grace of a drunk uncle at a wedding. Their attacks are so slow and predictable, you could go make a sandwich in between dodges.

But don’t be fooled—there’s always that one enemy. You know the one. The sneaky little jerk with an attack you can’t predict, who smacks you once and sends you scrambling to chug your one health potion like it’s your last can of soda. Oh, and naturally, the game waits until you’re out of potions to introduce you to the tutorial on how to heal. Super helpful, right?

The Learning Curve: Steeper Than Mount Everest

At first, combat feels like trying to solve a Rubik’s Cube blindfolded—awkward, confusing, and filled with regret. You’re still figuring out how to chain attacks together, switching between skills, and trying not to roll directly into the boss’s face like a total noob.

And don’t even get me started on cooldowns. You hit your flashy new skill, and now you’re stuck waiting 30 seconds for it to recharge while you’re getting slapped around like a piñata at a birthday party. Fun times.

Eventually, though, something clicks. You start landing combos, dodging like a pro, and feeling like an actual threat. It’s a bit like riding a bike—one that occasionally explodes if you press the wrong button, but still, progress is progress.

Boss Fights: AKA The Ultimate “Git Good” Moment

Oh, you thought you were getting the hang of combat? That’s cute. Cue your first boss fight, where the game cranks the difficulty up to “What the heck was I thinking?” levels.

The boss is a giant armored nightmare with fifty attack patterns, each more annoying than the last. Meanwhile, you’re running around in your thrift store armor, swinging what can only be described as a pool noodle.

The boss fight isn’t about skill—it’s about survival. You’re dodging, blocking, and praying to the gaming gods that the RNG smiles upon you. And when you finally, FINALLY beat the boss, the victory feels less like an accomplishment and more like sheer luck. But hey, you’ll take it.

The First Upgrade: Sweet, Sweet Validation

All that suffering is worth it for the first time you get a proper weapon upgrade. Suddenly, combat feels a little less like punishment and a little more like fun. You’re hitting enemies harder, blocking attacks like a champ, and finally starting to feel like the badass hero you were promised in the trailer.

It’s like trading in your beat-up old car for a shiny new sports car. Sure, you’re still figuring out how to drive it, but at least you’re not stalling at every red light.

The Verdict: Frustrating, Fun, or Both?

So, how does combat feel in the early stages of this RPG? In a word: clunky. It’s a weird mix of frustration and fun, like assembling IKEA furniture. You start off struggling, questioning all your life choices, but by the end, you’re kind of proud of what you’ve accomplished—broken pieces and all.

The early combat is designed to humble you. It’s the game’s way of saying, “Not so fast, hero. You’ve got a lot to learn.” And honestly? That’s okay. Because once you push through the awkward early stages, the combat evolves into something that’s (hopefully) a lot more satisfying.

If nothing else, it gives you a great story to tell. “Remember when I couldn’t even beat a slime? Classic me.