Instead of dissecting the game’s strengths and weaknesses like a traditional review, I want to take a more personal route. I’ll tell you how my experience—and perception of the game—changed throughout my playthrough.


For the first 10–20 hours, I was puzzled. Never before has a game treated me like an adult to this extent—for better or worse.

After the prologue and brief tutorials, the game lets go of your hand. You’re left with only a vague objective. I approached a group of drunk, arguing villagers hoping for some guidance. Instead, I failed a speech check, got into a fight, and—realistically—got beat up 3v1. I woke up shoeless.

Healing requires either a bed or a potion. I had neither. Try sleeping in someone else’s bed and you’ll get kicked out. Brewing a potion? Good luck without ingredients or an alchemy bench. So I slept in an abandoned roadside camp and hoped for the best.

To top it off, there was no autosave. Early on, you can only save by:
- Sleeping in your own bed
- Drinking a specific potion
- Quitting the game

No save scumming—at least not yet.

I say all this to make one thing clear: this is a game of action and consequence. You’re not a chosen one. You’re not special. You have to earn your place. Everything matters—whether it’s food, hygiene, or how you dress. Reset your “gamer brain.” It won’t help you here.


Eventually, I found my footing. I had money. A home. Food. Outfits for different occasions. At this point, I’d boot up the game just to decide: “What do I feel like doing today?”

I was still wandering mostly through villages and forests—no major cities yet—and that’s where the game truly shined.

Nature in KCD2 is breathtaking.

I used to think I’d seen good forests in games. Not anymore. These woods feel real—chaotic, alive, beautiful. Uneven ground, dense trees, rocky cliffs. Wildlife, bandits, and hidden paths complete the illusion.

One moment that stuck with me: I heard a story about a “magical axe” hidden in a grave atop a hill. The tale came with a rough description of the route taken to reach it—no markers, no quest log. Just me, retracing footsteps: past a rock, beside a half-chopped tree, near a pond. It worked. It felt natural. Like real exploration.

I might be biased—I live near the region the game is based on—but the authenticity is undeniable.


Then... came the dip.

I arrived in the city, which holds around 25% of the game’s content—quests, side quests, activities. It felt fresh at first: new people, new dialects, new mysteries. But slowly, boredom crept in.

I didn’t realize why at first. But then I left the city for a village quest and it hit me:

Nature was just more fun.

The city is dense and packed—but impersonal. There’s less freedom. Exploration becomes frustrating. So many buildings have confusing layouts; I constantly ran in circles just to find entrances. Don’t get me started on the underground tunnels—realistic, sure, but painfully dull.

And yet... The main city questline is fantastic.

It kept me going. There’s a particular heist that stood out—one of the best missions I’ve played this year. High stakes, emotional payoff. It reminded me why I stuck with it.


Once you leave the city, the game shifts into a more linear final act—main quests all the way to the end.

And it’s brilliant.

Pacing tightens. Stakes rise. You spend day after day with your companions—doing the heroic and the mundane. That routine adds emotional depth, helping you truly feel the weight of medieval life.

The immersion here is unmatched.

I won’t spoil anything, but one thing needs to be said: the music in these final hours is extraordinary. Bombastic when it needs to be. Subtle and heartbreaking when it shouldn’t be—because that just makes you cry harder.

The ending? Perfect. No notes. And every small decision you made on your journey can ripple into your finale. It even made me pause and wonder: “Was I a good Christian?”


This game is massive. I clocked nearly 100 hours and still didn’t do everything.

For the price and the quality?
I used to find medieval history boring unless there were dragons involved. Not anymore. Turns out, if it’s done right, it doesn’t need fantasy at all.

Well done, Warhorse.